


Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself)

by sarcastic_fina



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 57
Words: 54,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastic_fina/pseuds/sarcastic_fina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading.</p><p>[55] things you said at 1 am<br/>[56] things you said after we kissed<br/>[57] “Don’t take your eyes off of me” <i>new!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "are you calling me fat?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Estabilished! Olicity- "Are you calling me fat?" - **[missyporcelain](http://www.missyporcelain.tumblr.com)**

"Finally!" Thea declared, reaching over to press a hand to Felicity’s stomach. "I was beginning to think you were  _never_  going to show.” She rubbed her hand in circles. “What’s up, little niece or nephew?” 

Felicity frowned looking down at her stomach. “Show? Thea, I’m not  _pregnant_! Are you calling me fat?” 

Thea stepped back. “Wait, what?” Her brows hiked. “But there were pictures, of you and Ollie buying baby clothes! And he’s always touching your stomach and… I mean, I know you shouldn’t trust tabloids, but they had some pretty strong evidence.”

"Those clothes were for Lyla! She and Digg are having a baby." She pressed her hands to her stomach. "Does it really look like I’m pregnant? I know I spend a lot of time sitting down… I mean, I should probably work out more, and eat out less, but I didn’t think it was that obvious."

Thea wrung her hands. “Oh my god. I’m sorry!  _Really_. You don’t look fat at all. I mean, you’ve always been curvy and maybe it was the way you were standing or your shirt or something. You look great, really!”

Felicity tugged on her blouse. “It does feel a little tight… I haven’t worn it in a while, so I just thought it was that, but…”

The office door swung open then and Oliver stepped through to see his sister and EA together. He grinned at his two favorite ladies. “Hey.”

Felicity turned to him. “Oliver, do I look fat in this blouse?”

His face went blank “What?” He looked to his sister.

She winced. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

"Felicity…" He sighed, walking toward her and rubbing her arms. "Hey, you look beautiful. You always do." He glared at his sister. "What brought this on?" 

“ _She_ …” Felicity pointed at Thea, “thought I was pregnant and  _showing!_ ”

Thea shook her head and threw her hands up in defense. “Seriously, there were pictures all over the place of you guys looking at cribs and baby clothes and you’re always touching her stomach. What else was I supposed to think?”

"I’ve heard  _asking_ is common,” Oliver said, before looking back at his girlfriend.

"Well, what’s with the stomach touching?" Thea harrumphed, crossing her arms. 

"He’s just affectionate!" Felicity replied, throwing her hands up. "I need coffee…" Leaving behind the two Queens, she gathered up her purse and jacket, muttering under her breath as she went, and started for the elevator. "And then I’m getting chocolate, because I don’t  _care_  if I put on a few pounds. I’m still the smartest person in this building and my worth is not equal to my weight!” 

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Oliver sighed, turning to his sister.

"You know, this really isn’t my fault… If you’d just knock her up already, we would not be having this argument." 

“ _Thea!_ ”

"Listen…" She reached over and squeezed his shoulders. "Yes, I just accidentally insulted your girlfriend, but let’s focus on the positive… I thought you were having a child, I totally approved, and I was excited it was with Felicity. Bonus, she didn’t _technically_ freak out about the pregnancy thing. So, you know, maybe you should think about putting a ring on it and a bun in it.” She winked at him and then turned on her heel. “Now… I’m thinking a spa day together, that should make her feel better, right? We can get manis and pedis and I’ll not so subtly suggest what cute blonde little babies you’d make.” Grinning, she sauntered off toward the elevator. 

Blinking as he watched her go, he frowned and muttered to himself, “She’s not actually a natural blond…”


	2. flommy friendship, pre-olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy/felicity friendship and maybe a little possessive oliver? - **anonymous**

"C’mon, ‘City…" Tommy begged, following her around the foundry. "Dinner’s ten grand a plate; that’s guaranteed tastiness! Free champagne and all you have to do is mingle. I’ll proudly show you off to all those snobby, high society people, make ‘em jealous…"

Felicity rolled her eyes. “I’m not being your fake date so you can make Laurel jealous.”

"I said  _people_ ,” he corrected. “As in multiple, nameless people; possibly complete strangers…”

She rolled her eyes. “Tommy. I love you, but no.” 

"All I heard was the first part." He grinned at her goofily and reached for her hand, swinging her around in a circle and pulling her in close. Humming a random tune, he started dancing them around in exaggerated turns and twists until she laughed. "Give me one good reason you can’t be my date to the benefit tomorrow. One  _solid_ reason…” He dipped her back, “that you can’t help your favorite and most handsome friend out…” 

"Because she already  _has_  a date,” an irritated voice interrupted. 

Both Tommy and Felicity turned to see Oliver frowning at them, his arms crossed over his chest. “I thought you were still interested in Laurel.”

"He is." Felicity patted Tommy’s arm as he brought her upright but didn’t let her go. "He was hoping to, not-so-subtly, make her jealous." She readjusted her glasses. "Obviously he’s low on options."

"Hey, now! You were my first choice and you’d totally make her jealous…" Tommy paused before quickly adding, "If that was my intention, which it is not, because that is childish and you would in no way encourage that behavior." He cast an innocent look down at her. "So who’s the lucky guy then? And how soon should I warn him to duck before Oliver arrows him?" 

Her lips twitched. “I don’t think he’ll be arrowing himself any time soon…” She frowned. “ _Again_.” Detangling from Tommy, she patted his arm. “Sorry. Maybe if I knew you were going earlier I would’ve said yes, but Oliver already asked me to be  _his_ cover date.” She shrugged as she moved to walk back to her computers. “Although, I’m not opposed to a three-way date. I’d definitely cause a few jealous heads to turn then.” When they raised their eyebrows, she blushed but said, “Not apologizing for that one.” 

Tommy tipped his head in consideration, but when he opened his mouth, Oliver shook his head. “Find a different date,” he suggested to his best friend.

Tommy sighed as he watched Oliver turn on his heel and follow Felicity back over to her desk. 

"Cover date, my ass," he muttered under his breath.

It was too bad Oliver already asked Felicity out. They could’ve killed two birds with one stone. Then again, it looked like Oliver didn’t need anymore directing. He was starting to open his eyes to the awesome girl right in front of him.  _Finally_.

Of course, that left Tommy dateless… 


	3. shirtless bed-sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity: "Shirtless? Wait, what? You didn't tell me you slept shirtless." Non-established relationship where Felicity and Oliver have to share a bed and Oliver tries not telling her that he normally sleeps naked. - **[voubledision](http://www.voubledision.tumblr.com)**

"This is like a bad rom-com," Felicity muttered, frowning at the double bed in front of her. "I mean, are you even going to fit on that?"

Oliver sighed. “It’s one night. It’s too late to try anywhere else and I’m exhausted.” He tossed his dufflebag down on the floor. “I want this side, it’s closer to the door.”

"What if they come through the window?" she asked, brow raised knowingly.

"Then I’ll roll on top of you," he answered, before kicking his shoes off and reaching behind him to grab the back of his shirt, pulling it off over her head. 

"Shirtless? Wait, what? You didn’t tell me you slept shirtless…" She shook her head. "I mean, not that I’ve ever asked, and, well, given how much time you spend shirtless anyway, it shouldn’t surprise me, but… Do you really have to? Now? While we’re sharing a bed?"

"I get too warm, and clothes are restricting."

"Only on the upper half of your body? What kind of pants are you wearing that your shirts are so restricting?" she demanded. 

"Felicity," he sighed, moving to the bed, undoing his jeans as he went. 

"Whoa, whoa, stop. I’m tired, I’m not  _that_  tired. If you lose anymore clothes, I won’t get enough sleep to work my tech genius tomorrow.”

His mouth twitched. 

"Yes, congratulations to your ego. You’re very distracting and I’ve only just gotten used to you walking around in all your shirtless glory while I’m on my computers. Thank God there isn’t a salmon ladder around here…" She crossed her arms over her chest. "So just… keep your pants on."

He raised an eyebrow at her but laid back on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head before he nodded for her to lay down beside him. 

Felicity paused, her eyes set on his chest as muscles moved and skin stretched. She dabbed her lips with her tongue and Oliver could actually see the want as it flushed across her face. Suddenly his pants really  _were_ restricting.

Blinking quickly, she tore her eyes off of him. ”I, unlike some people, actually brought pajamas.” She grabbed up her bag and walked to the bathroom to change. “Where are yours?” she wondered, but didn’t bother waiting for an answer as she closed the door behind her. 

"I don’t wear any," he called after her. 

The resounding thud of her losing her grip on her dufflebag made him smirk. 


	4. shirtless bed-sharing pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PANTS WERE REALLY RESTRICTING OMG STOP I CAN’T WITH YOU canIpleasehavethesmutversionofthis - **[voubledision](http://www.voubledision.tumblr.com)**

Felicity sighed for, what had to be, the fifth time.

“What?” he finally asked.

“I can’t sleep. It’s too warm and you’re… taking up all the space. These beds were not made for gargantuan men. At least not when women are sleeping beside them and not on top of them.” She went completely still. “3… 2… 1…” she muttered under her breath, but it was clear in the otherwise quiet room.

“I can’t make myself any smaller,” he sighed, readjusting his head on the arm he had bent behind it.

“Well, what if you turned onto your side?” she suggested. “We both could.”

If the way her eyes widened was anything to go by, she wasn’t expecting him to turn to face her.

She blinked before whispering, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Warm?”

He shrugged. She’d long kicked the blankets and sheet to the floor when body heat became an issue. He’d already opened a window, but they weren’t getting back circulation. “I’m not wearing as much as you are.”

“Yes, I noticed that…” She glanced down at his chest and then away quickly before clearing her throat. “Thanks for keeping your pants on.”

“I don’t see why it mattered; your shorts aren’t covering much.”

“What?” She looked down at herself and fingered the ends of her shorts. “They are, too!”

“Felicity, you’re showing even more leg than you do in the office.”

She huffed. “What’s  _that_  supposed to mean?”

“Just that I have a healthy appreciation for your skirts.”

With an eyebrow arched, she made a choked noise. “My skirts are not that short!”

“They’re short enough,” he muttered, remembering a particularly memorable pink one last Thursday.

“Are you thinking about me in a skirt right now?” she demanded.

He paused. “Is there a right answer to that question?”

“We are not having this conversation while we are half-naked in a bed together.”

His eyes narrowed. “What about fully naked in a bed together?”

Felicity paused before wondering skeptically, “Was there some kind of super-aphrodisiac sprayed in your face when I wasn’t looking…?”

He sighed. “No. Just close quarters, a lot of anticipation, and tiny shorts at play.”

She spluttered out an incoherent mess of words and his name.

He reached for her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear and let the tips of his fingers drag over her soft cheek.

“You’re not playing fair,” she muttered, but didn’t pull away.

“Who said I was playing?”

“Oliver, I’m not going to be one of your many one-night stands,” she told him stiffly, turning over onto her back and glaring at the ceiling.

Sighing, he shuffled a little closer and rested a hand on her stomach, rubbing in small circles, tugging the fabric of her shirt up and out of the way so he could circle her navel with his fingers. “Felicity, I think you know by now that you mean a lot more to me than that. I wouldn’t expect this to just be swept under the carpet.”

She scoffed. “So what? We spent three years tip-toeing around each other for it to culminate in a quickie in a random hotel room? Not to poke holes in the theory, but I was kind of hoping for something a  _little_  more romantic.”

“It wouldn’t be quick, and we can order champagne and strawberries after…” His head tipped consideringly. “Or now. I can lick champagne off your stomach while I get those shorts off.”

She pursed her lips, but he could see the smile edging over her mouth.

“Feed you strawberries while I eat you…” He walked his fingers stomach her stomach. “I can do slow and romantic or I can do fast and hard. We can do it tomorrow or next week or another three years from now, if you want. But I’d really like to get your legs around me and I really want to see if you taste as sweet as I think you do…” His fingers slid under the waist of her shorts, but only lightly dragged over her skin. “And I’m really,  _really_ tired of waiting.”

With a groan, she turned over. “Lose the pants.”


	5. "i'm in love with you" olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity "I'm in love with you" - **anonymous**

Oliver was wearing a Santa hat. He was also dancing, spinning Thea around in circles while she laughed. It was Christmas Eve and the party had long ended, guests gathering up their jackets and their keepsakes from the Queen family Christmas party and going home.

Oliver had lost his jacket at some point and was barefoot, wearing dress pants, an untucked white shirt, and suspenders as he swung his sister around in an off-tune dance. 

This. This is why she loved him. 

"You might want to try telling  _him_  that,” a voice said, drawing her attention.

Felicity’s eyes widened as she turned to the left to find Roy standing beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his pressed pants. 

"What?"

"That you’re in love with him," Roy said with a faint shrug. "Christmas miracles and all that crap. He’d probably like to hear you say it. You know, to him and not your drink."

Felicity glanced down at the cup of hot apple cider she had raised to her lips; she’d really only grabbed it to keep her hands warm but she’d been sipping it for the last ten minutes in an effort to look busy. 

"Oh, uh, yeah, that was kind of just an inner-thought escaping through my faulty brain-to-mouth filter. So maybe we could keep that between us?" she hoped.

He raised an eyebrow down at her. “Your choice, Blondie. But I don’t think the Boss would turn you down.” 

Her nose wrinkled. “Gee, thanks for the shining endorsement, Roy.”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean, I think he loves you, too.” 

"Oh." She shifted her feet. "Well, that’s nice of you to say, but I really don’t think—"

"Felicity!"

Her head swiveled quickly to find a grinning, flushed, slightly tipsy Oliver waving her over. 

Roy took the half-empty cup of cider for her. “Better go see what he wants,” he suggested, smirking.

She glared at him but walked forward to meet Oliver, the bottom of her dress dragging on the floor since she’d kicked off the too high heels and replaced them with the panda flats she kept in her purse. 

Oliver held his hands out for her and Felicity slipped her own into them, somehow still surprised when he twisted her around and brought her in close, her back against his chest, arms crossed over her waist.

"Dance with me," he said against her ear.

His cheek pressed warmly to hers as he squeezed her fingers and rocked them side to side. She wasn’t sure what song was playing; to be honest, she couldn’t hear much past the beat of her heart and the steady sound of his breathing. 

But they moved in this slow dance, with her leaned back to rest against his solid chest, and he hummed every once in a while, a tune she didn’t know, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. It was nice and soothing and like a dream she’d never thought would actually happen.

"Happy Hanukkah," he murmured. 

Eyes closed, she smiled. “Merry Christmas.” 

They must have danced for quiet some time, because when she opened her eyes, they were the only two there. Roy and Thea had left and the staff had turned off all the lights but the chandelier above them. 

"It’s probably late," she said, tipping her head back until it fell to his shoulder. 

"Mm-hmm…" He continued to move them in small circles around the floor. 

"I should go."

He hummed negatively. “You should stay.” 

"Oliver…"

He looked down and met her eyes. “What were you and Roy talking about? Before I asked you to dance…”

She shrugged. “My attractive inability to keep my thoughts in my head.”

He nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. “When I was a kid, this was my favorite room… You know why?”

"Hm?"

A beat passed and then, “Because it echoed.”

Felicity felt her heart still in her chest. 

It went silent for a long moment, her eyes darting away and her brow furrowed.

"You should take Roy’s advice," he told her.

"Oliver," she whispered. 

"If it helps, I’ll go first." He raised a hand to catch her chin and turned her face to see him. "I’m in love with you," he told her. 

She blinked quickly as her eyes burned. 

He smiled, warm and full of love. “Your turn.”


	6. "i'm not that girl" delicity friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity + I'm not that girl - **[itsactuallycorrine](http://www.itsactuallycorrine.tumblr.com)**

With the foundry empty save for the two of them, John decided to put their rarely found quiet time to good use as he approached her desk.

"You’re taking it better than I expected," he said, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"Taking  _what_ better?” she wondered, tearing her eyes off her computer screens to lean back in her chair and see him. 

"Oliver and Sara," he said simply. 

"Ahh…" She half-smiled, but there was little happy about it. "What should I be doing then? Weeping on my keyboard?" She tipped her head, a brow raised.

"You know that’s not what I meant…" He stared at her searchingly. "You and Oliver, there’s…  _something_  there.”

Felicity sighed, plucking her glasses off and massaging the bridge of her nose. “Yes, sometimes, in really intense situations, we have moments or a… a  _spark_  or something. But, we both know I’m not that girl.”

He frowned. “What girl?”

"We’ve seen Oliver’s conquests, Digg. The women he likes, that he dates, the have any chance with him; I’m nothing like them." She gave a soft, resigned smile then. "And that’s fine. If Sara makes him happy, then I’m glad. He deserves that. Do I think that’s probably going to blow up in his face, like most things Lance-related do? Yes, I do. But that’s his business, not mine." She shrugged. "So I’m okay with that. I’m okay with whatever happens here. He doesn’t owe me anything and I don’t owe him anything. Well, at least romantically. We do owe each other loyalty, support and respect as friends, but well, you know I meant…"

John stared at her a moment longer before he gave a nod. 

"Thank you though, for looking out for me," she said, smiling up at him. 

"Always," he assured. 

The door above opened then and the clomp of shoes told them Oliver had arrived. Felicity turned her chair back around to face her computers, returning to business as usual. 

Oliver walked toward them, but his gaze lingered more on his blonde counterpart, and John inwardly sighed.

No, Felicity wasn’t like any of Oliver’s previous conquests. She wasn’t a conquest at all. He didn’t know how long it would take, or how many times they’d have to go through this situation with either Felicity or Oliver dating someone else, but eventually they were going to get it right. While, frankly, he didn’t look forward to how long it was bound to take, he figured the payoff was enough for his two best friends. They deserved to be happy, and he knew that was going to be with each other, even if was going to take a lot of time and growth to get them there. 


	7. "something unexpected" olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver/Felicity: "something unexpected" - **[storiesbyladychi](http://www.storiesbyladychi.tumblr.com)**

"Well, that was… unexpected." She shifted on the bed, naked and tugging on her fingers awkwardly. "Not in a bad way. Well, I mean, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t _kind_  of bad. But it’s not the worst thing. I mean, it’s been a long night, totally understandable, and you’ve been really stressed lately…”

"This never happens," Oliver groaned from behind the hands he had pressed to his face.

"Right, I’m sure that’s true," Felicity said, nodding.

"I’m serious. I’ve never… I’ve always…" He shook his head. "I can’t believe this is happening right now."

"It’s okay…" she soothed, turning onto her side and rubbing her hand over his stomach in circles. "It happens sometimes. Like I was saying, things have been really stressful with your job and your  _other_ job and then your family and training Roy and it seems like somebody from your past that you thought was dead pops up alive every other month. So I mean, what’s one lost erection, right?”

"Please stop talking."

"Oliver, you know that’s almost impossible."

Sighing, he dropped his hands and turned to look at her. “I’m going to make this up to you.”

"Is this a pride thing? Because listen, I’m not judging. I’m okay with cuddling. I know you’re tired and this is really, seriously nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, we are going to have plenty more opportunities for this kind of thing. Well, at least I hope so. Our schedules really are incredibly demanding and this is only the first time we’ve ever actually done this, so that’s kind of…  I don’t want to say disappointing, because that’ll probably kill your ego, and—"

Oliver shuffled down the bed, confusing her for a moment. 

"Where are you going?" 

"Nowhere." He moved up to his knees and crawled in between hers. "This is not happening. This is going to come back. I’ve never been too tired for sex. Or too stressed. And I’ve been dreaming about this for  _way_  too long for this kind of ending. In the meantime…” He dragged hands down her thighs and spread them. “Let me make it up to you.”

"Oliver, you really don’t have to prove anythiiiiiii… Oh God. Okay, don’t stop. You have something to prove. A lot! A lot to prove! Keep going." She arched her back and dug her fingers into his hair to hold him close as he set his mouth to work. 

He made her come twice before he sat back with a grin. 

She was about to ask him why he looked so damn happy when she was the one who’d just seen stars, but then he was leaning over her and pressing up between her legs and  _oh_ , it looked like he was ready to go. All things considered, the unexpected turned out to be pretty damn satisfying for once.


	8. rolicity friendship, jealous!oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're still taking prompts: Oliver jealous of Roy and Felicity's newfound friendship? I know it's super vague but I'm literally okay with anything as long as it's got some Roy/Felicity friendship and I also love jealous!Oliver haha ^^ And I love your writing so I know whatever you write will be awesome. Thank you ^^ - **[whatthahook](http://www.whatthahook.tumblr.com)**

"What are they talking about?" Oliver grunted, his brow furrowed as he watched Roy sit on the edge of Felicity’s desk, making her laugh and smile, her head falling back. 

"They’re friends." Digg shrugged. "Felicity said something about a band they both liked. They’re trying to get tickets."

He harrumphed. “What band?” 

"Does it matter?" Digg raised an eyebrow. "It’s probably out of town. And, last I checked, you keep it pretty local most of the time." 

Oliver muttered petulantly, “I like music…”

John sighed. “Oliver, you either need to grow a pair or stop complaining.”

He frowned, brows hiked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

"It means men will be interested in Felicity. She’s a beautiful, kind, extremely intelligent woman." He shook his head. " _That_ , that’s just friendship,” he told him, pointing at Roy. “But, that doesn’t mean there isn’t another Barry Allen around the corner. So if you’re going to get your tights wound up every time somebody pays any attention to her, you either need to let her know that you want to be the guy in her life making her laugh and taking her to concerts, or you need to take a big step back and let her have her life. Those are your options. Because this pining after her thing, getting jealous about every other guy out there who gets enough courage to actually  _try_ , it’s not working for me.”

With that, John turned on his heel and walked away, muttering under his breath about stubborn partners. 

Later that night, however, when Oliver gathered up the courage to ask Felicity if she’d like to get some dinner, just the two of them, he could admit he smiled a little. Maybe not so stubborn after all.


	9. olicity + felicity teases oliver/business in russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity (because they are beautiful) and.... uhm.... Felicity *ahem* distracting Oliver during a conference call. Bonus points if it's with QC's Russian branch. (I don't know where this came from. I've been craving it for like the past week. *hides*) - **[missbgraceful](http://missbgraceful.tumblr.com/)**

Oliver coughed, his brow furrowed as he stared at the man across from him, speaking in a thick Russian accent as he continued to try and tell Oliver about the recent changes made in their offices. He nodded to show he was listening, but in all honesty, he was much more interested in the hand currently resting on his thigh. Every once in a while, she’d flick her fingers down and trace the seam of his pant leg, letting her pinkie finger slide dangerously high. 

He’d already pressed his hand down to stop her twice, but he could admit that he enjoyed it a lot more than he should. They were comfortably hidden thanks to the high set of the table they were all seated at, meaning nobody had any idea that Felicity, who seemed extremely dedicated to whatever it was she was looking at on her tablet, was slowly and methodically driving him nuts. 

Eyes narrowed, he tried to focus on the presentation in front of him. Her hand was still, it hadn’t moved in some time, so maybe this was just another exercise in teasing him, letting him wait, anticipating the next slide of her fingers. But then she raised her head and smiled at the two men in front of her. “Could you speak a little more on that?” she asked. 

They nodded eagerly and launched into conversation that Oliver couldn’t for the life of him follow. Felicity’s fingers didn’t just stretch out and lightly drag over his pants. No, she slid her hand right up and cupped him, sinking her hand down low and squeezing his shaft. 

His breath caught in his throat and he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table top. He could see their mouths moving, but there was just a rush of noise in his ears. Felicity rubbed her hand up and down before pausing and then, without warning, raked her nails across the front. 

He jumped in his seat, drawing the attention of everyone. 

He let out a breathless noise and shook his head. In fluent Russian, he quickly told them, “My apologies, I think it’s a mixture of jet lag and just generally not feeling well. I’m going to have to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.” 

Unable to argue with him, they agreed, and Oliver swiftly stood from the table and turned, taking Felicity with him, his hand wrapped around her elbow. “Miss Smoak, maybe when we get back to the hotel you could help me feel better,” he growled against her ear.

She grinned up at him. “I think I have just the cure…”


	10. olicity + baby-fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity: Oliver is irritated because their unborn baby hasn't started kicking yet and is all kinds of adorable :) - **[not-past-tense](not-past-tense.tumblr.com)**

"Oliver, you’re going to have to move you hand eventually."

He shook his head, frowning. “No, the baby book said they start moving as early as sixteen weeks, which is right now.” 

"And up to 22 weeks," she reminded, "which means you will have to move your hand at some point in the next six weeks." 

"She’s a Queen," he argued. "We’re notoriously impatient. She’ll kick, and soon."

Felicity smiled at him, sitting beside her in bed with his hand cupped under her stomach, thumb stroking lightly. “I have to get dressed you know. And shower and eat and go to work, much like someone else currently taking up residence in this bed.”

"In a minute," he muttered before ducking down to rest his head on her thigh, smoothing his hand over and around her stomach. "You think she can hear me?"

"That depends, are you going to tell her to hurry up and kick already?" she wondered, brow raised and lips pursed to hide her amusement.

"Not order, just encourage…"

Felicity reached for him, stroking her fingers back through his hair. “She’ll kick when she wants to kick.”

"And I will be right here waiting for her," he said stubbornly.

Felicity rolled her eyes, but she was a little bit helpless to how adorable it was. He’d been doing this for days; she should be used to it, but he was only getting more persistent. So she let them linger there in bed for another half-hour with Oliver staring at her stomach as he waited for any sign that baby-Queen was moving around. 

She was just about to tell him time was up and they were going to be late for work, which usually just meant sharing a shower (which, admittedly, meant being even  _more_ late for work, because a wet, sudsy Oliver was not something she was going to turn down,  _ever_ ), but then…

Oliver perked up, his eyes wide. “Did you feel that?”

"It did happen inside of me, so yes," she answered wryly.

He lit up, pressing his hand a little more firmly. “She kicked,” he whispered. “ _She kicked!_ ”

And then she kicked again and again, directly against her dad’s hand and Felicity, for all that she’d bugged him about it, couldn’t help but tear up at the proud, excited smile he wore. So maybe he was impatient and stubborn, but it looked like his daughter was, too. And she couldn’t say she didn’t love that about both of them. 


	11. "look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me" + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like you're taking prompts ( I hope I haven't got that wrong) so I'll put this one to you: Olicity, obviously. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me." - **[amouretautresdemons](http://amouretautresdemons.tumblr.com/)**  
>  **polvyore** : [outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=113118730)

It was her wedding day.

Let her repeat that.

It was her  _wedding_ day!

So why, for the love of Google,  _why_  was she kissing Oliver Queen?

Well, okay, no,  _he_ was kissing  _her_. As in, she was wearing a dress, white as driven snow, about to become Mrs. Felicity Raymond, when Oliver Queen came into her dressing room, thankfully devoid of the excited wedding party, locked the door behind him and declared, “I’m late, I’m really late, I know that.”

Looking up from where she’d been fiddling with her veil, which she’d yet to pull over her face, she squinted at the clock (these contacts were just not working for her) and told him, “No…  _Well_ , maybe according to the actual itinerary where guests are supposed to show up and get a seat before the music plays, but I haven’t walked down the aisle yet, so I’d say, on a scale of how late you could be, you’re still doing pretty good.”

He shook his head, walking toward her, his hands fisted and his face twisted with something that made worry worm its way into her heart.

"Oliver? What’s wrong? You look…  _scared_. Oh God, is it Slade? Is he back? Or Malcolm Merlyn? Tell me it’s not the Count!” She started wringing her hands. “You need to say something! The list of villains going through my head is insanely long and really, really freaking me out!”

"No, no, nobody’s back. It’s not… It’s not Arrow-related." 

Her brow furrowed as she stood up a little straighter and frowned. “QC then?” She inhaled sharply. “Oh no, is it Thea? Is she okay?” Her eyes darted around, worry clawing at her throat. “She told me she couldn’t come, scheduling differences or something, but she was fine when I talked to her yesterday. I mean, yes, she spent an hour critiquing my choices in cake and telling me it was a metaphor for something else, but otherwise, she seemed fine, if a little annoyed…”

"Thea’s fine." He shook his head and glanced away, brow furrowed for a moment. He looked down and paused as he found a pair of white heels waiting nearby. "Your nana’s wedding shoes…"

She smiled then. “Yeah! I’m surprised you remembered.”

He swallowed tightly. “I know how much it meant to you that you had them… Especially since she can’t be here to see you get married.” 

Felicity’s smile softened. “She wasn’t big on ceremonies anyway. She told me when I was a little girl I should skip the whole shebang and just get a quickie marriage in a court house. Less fuss.” 

His mouth curved up faintly. “But Ed wanted the wedding?”

Felicity shrugged. “You only get married once, right?” 

He raised his eyes to meet hers then. “Yeah,” he rasped. 

She stepped closer to him, reaching out to press a hand to his chest, over his heart. “Oliver, are you okay?”

He looked down at her hand, her pale pink finger nails standing out starkly against his black suit jacket. And then he reached for her wrist, his finger circling the gold bangle there. “You’re wearing the bracelet I got you for your birthday…” he said quietly.

She looked down at it, all looping figure eights of gold and diamonds. “Well, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” She smiled. “Not to mention it has the most meaning.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you remember when you gave it to me? You said it meant forever. That it was a sign I’d always have you." She watched his thumb circle the loops. "For infinity." 

"You will," he told her. 

She looked up at him then, somehow looking so sad and broken on a day that was supposed to be full of happiness. He touched a loose curl hanging at her cheek and she tried not to shiver when his knuckles brushed her skin.  _Wedding day, wedding day, Mrs. Felicity Raymond_. She’d spent years getting to this place. To this moment in her life where she could accept that Oliver would always be there, he just wouldn’t be hers. So she tried to let go and move on and she met Ed, who was an amazing, wonderful man, and she loved him. She did. It wasn’t the all-encompassing, passionate love she’d once expected for herself, but it was warm and kind and steady. Oliver was not steady. He was very unsteady. Unpredictable. Unexpected. Unlikely. Unrequited. 

"We should get out there." She blinked away the haze that filled her and moved to take a step back. "I— I mean ’ _I’._ I should get out there because I’m getting married, not you, not us, not we, I mean I am but you should go out, too.” 

His mouth curled up in a faint, soft smile. “Do you love him?”

Felicity startled. “Wh-What? Oliver, where is this coming from?”

"Just answer me, honestly. Are you in love with him?" He stared searchingly at her. "I don’t mean grow old together and hold hands and sit on porch swings love. I mean, does it make it easier to breathe when you see him? Does hearing his voice make your heart ache? Does getting up every morning make you excited because you get to see him?" He shook his head. "Would you let the whole world burn so you could kiss her?"

Her breath stuttered from her lips, where his eyes had settled now. “Oliver?” she whispered. 

"I have a better question…" He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Do you love me?" 

Her heart stopped in her chest.

He reached for her, his hands on her elbows, tugging her an inch closer. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me… Say it and I’ll walk away. I— I’ll watch you marry him and I’ll send you a completely over-the-top wedding gift. I’ll congratulate you when you have children together and I’ll stand back and watch you live your life with someone that isn’t me. But if you can’t, if you tell me that you love me even a little bit, then I’ll do anything,  _everything_ to show you that I’m worth taking this risk for. That loving me and being with me and  _choosing_ me is worth it.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, in a wedding dress meant for another man. And then he kissed her. He kissed her until her lips were swollen and her breath had left her and her heart beat right out of her chest and fit itself into his. He cradled her head, her hair coming loose around his fingers, and he kissed her with all the passion she’d once wanted for herself, until she felt the heat of it down to her toes, flaring across her skin until she was heady and unbalanced and desperate to claw the lace dress from her body just to feel his hands replace where it touched. 

"Tell me," he said against her parted lips, breathing into her mouth, staring into her eyes. 

A tear fell down her cheek. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

Felicity Smoak got married that day, in her grandmother’s shoes, in a court house downtown, holding Oliver Queen’s hand, with a proud Thea to bear witness. 

He made sure she never regretted it. 


	12. morning after + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity. Morning after their first time. - **[ohmypreciousgirl](http://ohmypreciousgirl.tumblr.com/)**

An alarm was ringing; Oliver scrunched up his face, his brow furrowed, confusion flooding him. He hadn’t slept long enough for his alarm to go off in  _years_ ; he habitually woke up every day, long before the clock ever had a chance. But then he turned his head, blinking his eyes open, and he realized it wasn’t  _his_  alarm. He looked past the riot of blonde curls on the pillow beside him and his mouth tugged up in a smile, instantly remembering that  _oh yeah_ , he wasn’t even at home. He’d stayed over at Felicity’s and one heartfelt conversation later turned into a very dedicated display of his feelings for her on the kitchen table, and then the shower, and one last time in the bed before they finally fell asleep. 

"Sh’up," Felicity groaned, snuggling her face down against her pillow.

His smile stretched wider before he rolled over and reached past her head to slap the off button on the offending alarm clock. 

Felicity relaxed then, humming thankfully. 

He settled back against the pillows and looked down at her, stroking her hair back from her face. She turned her head up to feel the weight of his fingers on her cheek and her mouth rose in a smile of her own. 

With a soft sigh, she wiggled across the bed and pressed to his side, rubbing her nose against his chest before she settled in to go back to sleep. He wrapped an arm around her and closed his eyes. He could do with a few more hours too. 

The next time he woke up, there was no alarm to jar him, and he found a much more pleasant way to wake her, with his head buried between her legs. She very much appreciated that, so they tossed the alarm and relied both on his internal clock and his tongue to do the work from then on out. Neither of them were complaining. 


	13. "take it off" + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> olicity "take it off" - **anonymous**

He stares at the back of her head, ruby red ringlets falling down across her shoulders. His chest heaves with the effort of having chased her over building tops, ducking and weaving as they outmaneuvered bullets and bad guys alike. She’d swooped in like his saving grace, taking out three guys before they could get the drop on him. He grudgingly admits he’d probably be calling Digg for back-up right about now, nursing more injuries than he’d care for. 

He thought it was Sara until a shock of red hair caught the light. His first instinct is to be irritated that a new player has infiltrated his territory, but he doesn’t have enough time to have a pissing contest. It’s not until they’re out of view that she speaks, and the second she does a pit forms in his stomach. 

"You’re welcome for the save, by the way. I mean, it’s customary to say thank you, right? At least, I assume so. Now that I think about it, gratitude probably isn’t what most costumed heroes go looking for. It’s kind of a solitary, appreciate yourself gig. Not that most of you actually appreciate yourselves. Mostly you just angst yourselves to death." 

He knows that voice. He knows that babbling. But he sent her off to live the simple life three years ago and hasn’t heard one word from her since. He still can’t bare to touch her computers. 

But then bullets are flying again, the enemy having caught up, and they have to run. For now, at least. This was only supposed to be an information-gathering mission when he was forced to engage. He’ll get another chance to take them down again, and soon. For now, however, he has more important issues ahead of him. 

"Take it off," he orders, his voice harsh and demanding. 

Her head turns slightly, and he can see the silver mask that cuts across her face, perfectly formed around her eyes, a bright, unforgettable blue. 

"I see you’ve gotten grumpier since the last time I saw you." 

His hands ball into fists. “Take. It.  _Off_.” 

She faces him, reaching up to drag the wig of shiny, red curls from her head, letting blonde hair spill down. And then she raises her chin, stubborn as can be. “You could at least  _pretend_  you’re glad to see me… It took me two and a half years to get this badass so you’d have even less reason to think you had any right to send me off somewhere to be safe. I mean, don’t get me started on the extremely sexist undertones there are to you deciding what I should do or that, because I’m a woman who doesn’t wield a bow staff or have assassin training, I’m somehow less capable of taking care of myself. In fact, yes, get me started.” She steps up and wags a finger in his face. “Because I might have thought it was sweet and noble at first, but then my brain caught up to me and reminded me that  _no_ , you do  _not_  get to tell me what to do or where to go or what part I play in this war, buddy. So you can either move over and share the city, or I can show you just how much I  _don’t_ like being told what to do.” She tips her head in challenge. “So? What’s it going to be?” 

Oliver’s answer is pretty simple. He kisses her. Hands buried in blonde hair, not red, he pulls her in close and kisses her until they’re both panting and dizzy. He’s got his arms wrapped tight around her, terrified that if he lets go, he’ll lose her somehow. It’s frantic and passionate and full of longing and lost chances and need.

He kisses her lips and her chin and her nose and her eyes, before finally he just holds her. 

"For the record, I’m very glad you’re here… and I’ve regretted sending you away since exactly five minutes after I said goodbye."

"Pro-tip, don’t do it again."

He grins, ducking his face down to kiss her cheek. “I won’t.”


	14. olicity + protecting her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt** : olicity + protecting her - **anonymous**

Felicity’s breath rushed out of her as she startled awake with a very naked and alert Oliver on top of her, his arms braced against the mattress and his eyes darting around wildly. 

She blinked up at him and patted his shoulder before she yawned. “Oliver, seriously, I need sleep. I passed out after round three for a reason…”

“ _Shh_ …” he said, reaching up to cover her mouth.

She shook her head to get his hand off. “Don’t you shush me!” She was starting to wake up now and not having enough sleep was making her grumpy. “It’s like four in the morning. I love you, but seriously, just go eat a sandwich or something.” 

He glared down at her, his head swiveling around. “There was a noise… I thought… It woke me up. I thought someone was in the house.”

She hummed, eyes drifting closed again. “‘s an old house, probably just the wood or something. Ooh, or a ghost.” Her brows hiked even though her eyes were closed. “I mean, I don’t know if I actually believe in ghosts. Sometimes I watch those ghost hunting shows and they convince me for like 0.5 seconds, but then I think, pfft, no way. If there were ghosts my cousin Carl would be haunting me. Carl was a total jerk, may he rest in peace, and he never ignored a chance to bug me. So that’s that. No such thing as ghosts…” she murmured, beginning to drift away. 

Oliver’s amused chuckle penetrated her sleep-fogged brain. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before moving to lay beside her once more and tugged her over to lay in the curve of his body. “Goodnight, Felicity.” 

She hummed, stroking his forearm over her stomach. “Night Oliver…” There was a long pause before, “Night possible ghosts hanging around Queen Manor…” 

It took all of 30 seconds for her to wake back up. “Oliver, seriously, what if your house is haunted? I can’t sleep now! What if some creepy ghost has seen me showering?” 

Oliver sighed. “There aren’t any ghosts…”

"How do you know? You said you heard a noise!"

"I was probably just dreaming it. Flashback to the island. I can’t help it. The wind could’ve whistled and I’d wake up." He pulled her in closer. "Go to sleep."

She laid down, but she was stiff, her mind going through the possibilities. “Okay, but I watched Paranormal Activity last weekend… Don’t ask me why. Sometimes I do things I shouldn’t do, you know? And I don’t just mean illegal things for you…”

"Felicity, if there are ghosts in the house, I will protect you. All right?" 

“ _How_? How are you going to protect me against a  _ghost?_ They have no corporeal form, so your arrows are moot, and so are all those muscles. Let’s face it, if there is a melevolent spirit in this house, we are  _doomedi_!

"Can we be doomed after we get more sleep?" 

"You need to take this seriously!" She slapped his arm. 

"All right, okay, I’ll call in an priest tomorrow if it makes you feel better." 

She frowned. “Fine. But if this place turns into Amityville Horror, I’m  _so_ gone.”

She could feel him grinning against her shoulder. “Duly noted.” 

Felicity rolled her eyes, but eventually let herself relax. She was comfortably burrowed up under as much of Oliver as she could take without being smothered. If he noticed she was using him as a human shield, he wasn’t complaining. 


	15. olicity + dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> olicity prompt + dreams - **anonymous**

Most of his dreams are nightmares. He desperately claws his way back to wakefulness just to avoid how suffocating his mind is. It’s so quick to drown him in imagery of death and decay, of happy faces turned to hollow husks, that he keeps himself from sleeping until he’s forced into passing out. Tonight is no different.

He has to drag himself up past the loss, the fear that he’s still back on that island, and jolts awake, ready to fight, to survive, to take out the enemy he thinks will greet him as soon as his eyes shoot open. 

His hands are out as if to strangle some unseen force; an invisible barrier between him and safety. His fingers are gnarled, they’re tense like the string of his bow, ready to snap to attention, lethal and immediate. But there is no one and nothing, just the harsh sound of his own heavy breathing to fill the darkness of his room, shadows creeping on the walls, ever closer, taunting, silently mocking the sheen of sweat still collected on his skin, the prickle of awareness on the back of his neck, the narrowed slit of his eyes as he searches and searches but never finds. 

There is an enemy. There always is. But in this particular case he’s realizing it’s him. It’s his head and his fears and his trauma that continues to bleed into reality; it tries, desperately, to keep him from taking any significant steps forward. 

Sometimes it wins. 

Other times… 

Fingers curl around his forearm and squeeze. He looks down, brow furrowed, and finds turquoise and pink nails staring back at him. The pads of her fingers press and press until its all he feels. The pressure of her there, never lifting, unmovable. And then he turns his head, seeks her out, and finds a collection of blonde curls on the pillow beside his. She has to squint without her glasses and her lips are puckered in that way they do when she’s half-asleep and stifling a yawn. 

He feels himself begin to calm down, to unwind, and slowly, so slowly, he leans back into bed. His head falls to the pillow, his heart still a little too quick and his skin too tight. She hums, moving a little closer, and her free hand raises, fingers stroking through his hair. Inch by inch, she draws nearer, until she’s pressed entirely to his side. The warmth of her body and her bare skin on his is calming. She presses a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzles her nose against him, and let’s him come down at his own pace.

She stays and she touches and she says nothing. He’ll talk if he wants to talk, he’ll pull her closer if he needs that. She’s grown used to the different levels of comfort he needs. Sometimes he needs to wrap himself around her, to prove to himself that she’s okay, she’s alive, she’s with him. Other days he needs to talk about what he saw, what his mind pulled together, real or not. And some days he can’t be close, he needs space, so she’ll run him a bath and she’ll give him some time, and when he calls her name, she’ll crawl into the cooling water and let him hold her as he presses apologies into her skin, for being wrong, for being fractured, for being a burden. She tells him it’s okay, that he’s closer to whole than he thinks, that he’s not, and never could be, a burden.

Tonight, he just needs her there. His frenzied mind begins to quiet. He turns his head up into her hand and he closes his eyes, and he listens to her steady breathing as he calms down. 

The shadows are still present, still creeping, still lying in wait. She can’t chase them away, no matter how light she is to his dark. They will always be there. Some nights are better, some are worse. But she stays, she whispers she loves him, and she supports him as he pulls the pieces of himself back together. She’s not the needle, he is, but she is the thread. 

He drifts back to sleep with the knowledge that she will be there, every time he wakes, and it might not be a cure-all, but it’s as close as he gets.

As if to prove him right, he doesn’t dream.

 


	16. self help books + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can it be crack fic? Cause I really want to read a fic where Oliver starts reading romance and self-help books because all his past relationships are huge fails, so now that he's with Felicity he's freaking out cause he needs to get it right with her as she's the love of his life! So, that means he will seek all the help he can get!" - **[ohmypreciousgirl](ohmypreciousgirl.tumblr.com)**

Felicity found the first one stuffed up under the cushion of her couch.

Oliver had, not so subtly, pushed it under there when she walked into the living room after her shower, toweling her wet hair, asking him what he was doing. He’d looked awkward, uncomfortable in a way he never really was. But when she asked him what he’d been reading, he distracted her. Crossing the room, taking her up in his arms, he buried his mouth at her neck and licked up a bead of water. She forgot about the book, well, about  _everything_ , really, until around 3 am when she got the munchies and snuck out from Oliver’s heavy arm tossed over her waist. He’d mumbled something in his sleep about mergers and kiwi before burying his face in her pillow, because he always stole it and she usually ended up with her head on his chest anyway. 

She was sitting on the counter, dressed in his discarded dress shirt and eating a stack of Pringles, when she remembered what had started the whole thing. It wasn’t long before she found herself tip-toeing over to the couch, so very aware of every creaking noise that occurred with each step and how loudly she seemed to be breathing. Oliver was a ninja; he would wake up at the tiniest of sounds. Well, okay, he  _usually_  would, but, cue buffing her nails on her shirt, because she  _totally_ knocked him into a sex coma with her awesome moves. Four for her.

Anyway, he was zonked out, and hopefully he would stay that way for at  _least_  five more minutes. Felicity knelt on the floor, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears and out of the way as she reached under the couch cushion and felt around, digging for the book she’d seen him hide there. She wrinkled her nose when she came across a piece of licorice from last week’s movie night with Sara and a handful of stale popcorn. There was some change too, quarters and nickels, before, finally, she found the book. She pulled it out with a triumphant fist pump and turned it over to see—

_It’s Not You, It’s Me: How to Change the Bad Relationship Cycle You’re the Cause Of_

Felicity frowned. “What?” 

There was a noise then, the thud of feet that said Oliver was awake and getting out of bed. Possibly to pee, but more likely because he realized she wasn’t in bed.

In a truly terrible move, she threw the book across her apartment, jumped up from the floor, hit her knee on the corner of her coffee table, cried out in pain and, while she was hopping around on one foot, biting her lip, cursed all the pointy corners in the world. 

Oliver was in the living in a second, the lights on as he looked around for some kind of danger. While the idea of Oliver fighting off a bad guy  _completely_  naked should have made her laugh, mostly she just pursed her lips as her knee continued to throb. Oh, the agony. This was what she got for snooping. Bubbe forgive her for her inability to leave things alone.

"What happened?" he asked, still looking ready for a war.

"The coffee table attacked me," she hissed, leaning down to rub her knee.

He paused, blinked at her, and then asked, “What?” in that blank voice of his that was full of confusion. 

"The coffee table," she huffed, pointing at the offending piece of furniture. "I hit my knee on it."

He shook his head, brow furrowed. “ _How?_ ”

Felicity bit her lip, rubbing at her leg, and fell back against the couch. “It doesn’t matter.” Lower lip thrust out, she glared down at the table and then at her knee. 

Rolling his eyes, Oliver relaxed, accepting that there wasn’t any immediate danger. With a soft, he walked over to her and knelt on the floor, bending over to kiss her knee, where she was sure a bruise would be growing any second.

"Better?" he asked, amused. 

She shook her head. “No, I definitely think you should kiss it again.” 

His mouth twitched, an eyebrow raised to silently ask her ‘oh really?’ and she bit her lip to hide her smile. 

Oliver took her up on her offer though, kissing her knee and up her thigh and pushing her (his) shirt out of the way so he could lick a strip across her hip bone. 

She forgot about her bruised knee, and the book, and let herself be swept away by him and his tongue and those oh so clever fingers of his. 

* * *

 

A few weeks later, however, she saw him reading at the bar in Verdant. He was supposed to be going over some of the books with Thea, but, last Felicity heard, Thea’d taken off on an impromptu date with Roy and left Oliver with the books to make up for how much he left on her plate when it came to  _his_ club. 

Felicity walked up behind him, smiling to herself when he didn’t seem to notice her approach. She could have bugged him he was losing his edge, but she knew how distracted he was lately. Between occasionally playing the face of the club, constantly being under a microscope as CEO of Queen Consolidated, and juggling Arrow duties alongside his mother’s demanding expectations, he had way too much on his plate. 

She snuck up behind him, hands covering his eyes, and whispered at his ear, “Guess who.”

She was not, however, expecting him to react so abruptly that he shoved the book in front of him off the bar so violently it shattered three random bottles on a lower shelf. 

Her hands fell in surprise, brows hiked. “Uh, sorry? Maybe I should’ve thought this through. Surprising you wasn’t my best plan.”

"What? No. It’s fine." He shook his head, turning on the stool to face her. 

"Was that important? We should pick it up before any of that alcohol soaks in or Thea will have your head." She moved as if to circle the bar, but Oliver’s hands quickly found her hips and gripped them. 

"No, no, it’s fine. Nothing important." His fingers flexed. "Are you hungry? It’s been a long day. We should get dinner."

She opened her mouth to reply, her eyes darting back toward the book on the floor. “Are you sure? I mean, I know how busy you are. I can wait while you finish up with…” She squinted at the book cover. 

_“101 Ways to Show Your Partner You’re Committed”_

Oliver kissed her, his mouth slanting over hers so abruptly that she was taken off-guard. She was not, however, unwilling. Her hands reached up to his face, palms sliding over his scruff, and slid them around, down his neck, nails scraping through his hair. His arms banded around her, squeezing, and then he was lifting her up a few inches, her feet dangling above the floor. He started walking them, still kissing her, making his way away from the bar and toward the doors. 

Felicity would be lying if she didn’t say he definitely distracted her. It wasn’t until they were at the car with his body pinning hers against the passenger door that her brain started to function again. He kissed down her cheek and under her chin, his mouth falling to her neck and suckling kisses down the length of it.

"We should get take-out, hm? Go home, put on a movie…" He nipped at her neck lightly. "If you’re good, I’ll rub your feet."

She smiled. “Good, huh?” She tipped her head back. “How about tit for tat? I’ll rub your shoulders, you get my feet.” 

He raised his head, kissed the tip of her nose, and said, “Whatever you want.” 

She forgot about the book until later that night, with Oliver passed out with his head in her lap as they watched the latest Transformers movie. She stroked her fingers through his hair and traced a scar down from the corner of his eye as she wondered just how many of those book he was reading and, well,  _why_. 

* * *

 

For a man who didn’t have a lot of free time, he seemed to be going out of his way to get some reading in at every turn.

Felicity walked in on him on his lunch break to find him juggling some contracts he was supposed to have read and signed hours ago, to find him also perusing a book, which he promptly hid under those same papers. Later, when he stopped off in the bathroom, she could admit she snuck in and moved the papers to see just what he’d been reading. 

“ _Improving You: A Version of You Worth Being Proud Of_ ”

She frowned at the cover, her brow knit, but when she heard the sink turn on in the bathroom, she quickly covered the book and ran back to her desk.

The title lingered with her for a long time though, making her chew on her lip, annoyed with the idea that Oliver thought he needed any kind of advice in that area. He  _should_ be proud of him. Yes, of course, she was aware of how much he could brood and how much guilt he carried, but… Had it reached a point where he was seeking out self-help advice for it? Was that a good or bad thing? She just wasn’t sure. 

* * *

 

A few days later, she arrived back from Big Belly Burger with dinner only to see him sitting on the mats, bent over a book that he hid away as he joined her by her desk. She caught a chunk of the title as he was shoving it away in his duffle bag. “ _Getting it Right When All You’ve Been is Wrong_.”

She didn’t ask even though she wanted to. Part of her wanted to believe he would tell her if he wanted to, while another part was pretty sure he was embarrassed and there was a reading he was hiding it. Still, Felicity didn’t like the lingering curiosity.

* * *

 

It all came to a head a week later.

She stopped by the manor to pick him up after he spent the afternoon with Thea, only to find him in the parlor, deeply focused on a book titled “ _What Did I Do Wrong and How Can I Never Do It Again?”_

Sighing, she shook her head. “Okay, are we going to talk about how many self-help books you’ve been reading?”

Flinching, Oliver suddenly lowered the book to his lap and looked up with wide eyes. 

“ _What_?” he choked out.

"Oliver, I’ve seen at least five. For a man who basically  _breathes_ stealth, you are not hiding this particular issue well.” Crossing the room, she took a seat on the table in front of him and leaned forward. “So? What’s with all the books?” She reached for the one he was holding and tipped it up to read the back. “ _Guaranteed to fix you and all of your relationship faux pas so you’ll keep it together when Mister or Missus Right comes along.”_ She snorted. “What is this garbage?”

Oliver’s cheek twitched, his eyes darting away. “Some of it actually makes sense. I mean… some of it’s kind of over the top, but… They make a few good points.” 

Felicity tipped her head, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “What’s this really about?”

Oliver frowned, staring down at the book, his brow knotted tightly. “I…” He trailed off, more than once in fact, struggling to put into words what he wanted to say.

Reaching for his hand, she curled her fingers around it, and waited. 

She could be patient, if that’s what he needed, but they both knew she didn’t like mysteries, so this was getting solved tonight. 

After a few false starts, he finally said, “I always do the wrong thing. If… If there is a text book on what to do in relationships, I’ve always done the opposite. And that… It didn’t really bother me before. I mean, there are a few relationships that I wish I hadn’t screwed up so completely. Not… Not because I want to be with them, but because they didn’t deserve it, definitely not how it happened. But… Those relationships, everything before this, I… They didn’t…” He sighed. “It’s not that they _didn’t_  matter. They did. Those women mattered. They just… Us together, me and them,  _we_ didn’t matter, not to me, not like they should have. But this,  _you_ and me, that  _does_ matter and I… I don’t want to screw it up.”

She watched him, rubbing the heel of his free hand against his eye, looking so tired and uncertain and a little bit fractured.

Felicity half-smiled. “ _Oliver_ …”

He sighed, raising his eyes to meet hers. “I know you think I can do this. Because you always believe the best in me and you think, somehow, I’m not going to disappoint you. But my track record says different, so I just… I thought, if we were going to do this, that if I just knew what  _not_  to do, then maybe I wouldn’t completely screw it up.” 

She shouldn’t have been touched, really. It wasn’t even really about her, was it? It was about him. His growth and his fears, but, well, she  _was_  touched. Because he’d done this for her just as much as he’d done it for him. He wanted this,  _them_ , to work out, so he’d done what he could to make that happen. To give himself a better chance of not making those mistakes and that, well, that was pretty amazing, actually. 

Removing the book from his lap, she tossed it away to the cushion beside him and replaced it with herself, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands settled on her hips, stroking up her back lightly. Leaning down, she rested her forehead against his and smiled. 

"Hey."

His mouth twitched. “Hey,” he murmured back. 

"So let’s talk about how you’re not the same person you were when you were in those other relationships, okay? Let’s talk about how you actively looked for a way to be better in this relationship, which already means you’re about 100% more dedicated than before. Let’s talk about how I know how much you care and how much you worry and that I don’t need you to be perfect. I might not know everything that happened on that island, but I do know quite a bit about your checkered, pre-island past. Most of it is published or archived on TMZ. And I don’t hold it against you, okay? I’m not waiting around for the day that you break my heart or run off with a leggy supermodel, even if that does seem to scratch a certain itch of yours…"

He rubbed a hand down her hip and splayed his fingers over her thigh. “These are the only legs I want around me.”

Her breath left her in a heady rush for a moment, but she shook off that warm, fuzzy feeling that always filled her when he started getting her worked up. Focus, she told herself. Now was not the time for getting distracted by him and all his…  _himness._

_“_ The  _point_ is… I trust you, Oliver.” She stared at him seriously. “If you think these books are helping you clear up some things, some confusion or whatever, then that’s fine. Just as long as you know that I don’t expect you to be perfect. I know you’ll make mistakes, so will I. I just want us to work through them together, to face whatever happens and do what we can to stick together.”

He nodded, tipping his head back to lay against the couch as he stared up at her. “I just don’t want to do anything that ends with me losing you.”

Smiling softly, she told him, “You won’t.” She shrugged. “Well, as long as you never play with the settings on my tablet or change the wallpaper on my computers or make fun of my awesome collection of panda memorabilia…”

He chuckled under his breath. “Done.”

"Good." She patted her hands against his chest. "So? Why don’t you share a few highlights from these books?" she asked, reaching for the one beside him. "Maybe we can go through them together, flag some of their wisdom, make fun of the other stuff."

He grinned, watching as she fingered through the book, and settled back against the arm of the couch, watching her as she perused the table of contents. 

"You know, now that I think about it, these books are probably made for totally normal couples and not the kind that also fight crime at night… Actually, that could be an untapped market that we might have to corner in a few years. Tell the other potential hero/sidekick couples out there how it’s done."

"Partners," he corrected. 

She looked over at him, smiling. “See. That can be chapter one.” 

He kissed her then, and, much like before, the books were forgotten when she had much more interesting things to do.

Of course, she might’ve preferred reading self-help books when, twenty minutes later, his mother walked into the parlor to find her son’s head buried between his EA’s thighs.

There, sadly, was no chapter in any of his books to help her with that particular issue. 

 


	17. teen!au olicity + ugly duckling/swan transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage AU!! Scrawny 13 year old Felicity comes back after 4 years abroad and let's just say her best friends Tommy and Oliver are more than slightly smitten. Please!! And thank you. - **[olicityslowburn](olicityslowburn.tumblr.com)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ **[polyvore](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=115947072)** ]

Oliver glanced at his watch for the third time in the last hour. Her plane had been delayed and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't getting anxious. Four years was a long time. Too long, by his estimate.

Tommy was trying to get in as much reading as he could before she got there. Felicity had warned them last week that she was going to quiz them on their comic book knowledge as soon as she saw them. Of course, they'd had more time than just the last week to prepare. When they met her back in third grade, she'd been a geek of the highest order and had managed to turn both of them onto the awesome world of graphic novels and sci fi. Unfortunately, since she'd left to study abroad when she was 13 years old, they didn't have her on their backs to see if they'd read the latest issue of whichever series she was currently obsessed with. And, as was common with them, they let their reading slide in favor of others things, like girls and partying.

But, she was finally coming home. Or so the giant 'Welcome Back Felicity' board they had folded up and waiting said. Felicity kept in contact with them, of course. She sent long, rambling letters every two weeks, telling them about all the amazing places she'd been and what she was studying. Oliver wasn't as good at keeping up with those letters. For every two or three of her six page letters there was one, sloppily written reply, his chicken-scratch slanted to one side, looking odd against her flowery, flowing writing. But he did write her, and miss her. Constantly, actually. The last time he saw her, she was all arms and legs, her thick, curly brown hair constantly being dragged back into a ponytail to get out of her face. And the braces, couldn't forget the braces. The image in his head made him grin, though.

Simpler times, he guessed. Back when it was just him, Tommy, and Felicity, riding bikes in the driveway and talking about the motivations of the antiheroes in her comic books. Drinking root beer and eating whatever snacks Raisa cooked up, talking about how the teachers were always getting on Oliver's back for his spelling while praising Felicity for her  _everything_.

It was no surprise when she got into the study-abroad program. She was a genius.  _Literally_. His mother used to tease him that she had no idea what a smart girl like Felicity Smoak was doing hanging around with a pair of boys who looked for any excuse not to do homework. He wondered sometimes, how different things might have been if she'd stuck around. He'd probably have better grades. Not because Felicity would ever do his homework - that was a huge no no - but because she would have studied with him and tutored him, specifically through that particularly difficult algebra class in tenth grade. It was only one of many reasons he missed her. Her ability not to make him feel dumb, but to help him through something that he was struggling with without getting frustrated.

Felicity had been his best friend since he was 8 years old. One of the other boys had shoved her off the swings and she'd scraped up her knees. Despite the tears he could see in her eyes, she stood up and told the boy that it wasn't nice and she wanted him to apologize. She was tiny. Possibly the smallest girl in their entire class, but standing there, with her hands on her hips and her chin raised, she looked so much bigger than all of them. And she was pretty. Her brown hair in two braids with blue ribbons. He was a little star struck at first. First crushes and all. He intervened when the boy refused, moving to stand at her back and reassert her demand for an apology. She got one and turned on her heel to tell Oliver she didn't need his help, she was doing just fine without him. He grinned and told her friends helped other friends. Apparently that was the right thing to say because she smiled then, and, well, that was that. He introduced her to Tommy, who was currently hanging off the monkey bars, and they were an inseparable trio from there on out.

Sometimes they got in trouble. And by 'they' he mostly meant him and Tommy. Felicity was there out of solidarity to the both of them, but, truth be told, she was usually the voice of reason trying to tell them that no, they definitely  _shouldn't_ break into the nurse's office and raid her sucker supply. And no, it was very much a bad idea to TP the principal's house or steal Max Brock's bike just because he put gum in her hair yesterday. But, she was there, because they were her boys, and even if she didn't agree with them, she knew they'd do it anyway, and she might as well try to keep them out of  _too_ much trouble. Loyal. That's what she was. To a fault, probably.

"Okay, wait, did I miss one?" Tommy asked, frowning down at the comic book in his hand. "I thought he died."

Oliver looked over, lips pursed. "He did. But then there was this pit and he came back and now he's all... rage-y."

Tommy blinked. "Oh... Does he get better?"

"Don't know. I'm up to date, but he's still totally nuts."

"Well, that's—"

An announcement rang out then, informing them that Felicity's plane had landed and the passengers would be coming out soon.

Grinning, Tommy hopped up from his seat, grabbing up the welcome back sign as he did. He slapped Oliver's shoulder. "So? You excited? Hey, how tired do you think she'll be? I was thinking we could get dinner, sneak into that club downtown, that new one? I was flirting with the bartender last weekend and I think she'll let us in the back if I ask nicely." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I don't know. The flight was like, eight hours, wasn't it?" They walked toward the crowd all waiting for their loved ones and made their way up toward the front.

Oliver had been quick to offer Felicity a much comfier ride home in the Queen family jet, but her dad had already paid for her ticket and she didn't want to waste his money. Unlike him and Tommy, Felicity had mostly attended their private schools on a scholarship, her grades making it easy to stay within the expected GPA when it came to someone who couldn't afford to pay the insanely high tuition. Getting into the study-abroad program had been huge and her dad had scrimped and saved to try and send her away for more than two years.

In the end, Robert Queen had made an anonymous donation to help pay for Felicity's way, even if neither she nor her father knew. Oliver only knew because he overheard his parents talking about it one night. He might've hugged his dad later, for no apparent reason, which was something he hadn't done since he was seven, and not since, either. Occasionally, even if his dad was often just a little too busy, he did know how much Oliver's friends meant to him, and he'd done a good thing by helping out the Smoak family. It helped, of course, that the Queens all loved Felicity, dubbing her the brains of the operation when it came to the in-trouble-too-often-for-their-own-good trio.

"Do you see her?" Tommy asked, scanning the crowd and bouncing a little on the heels of his feet. He unfolded the sign and raised it over his head. "Didn't she say something about dying her hair?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe Smoaky's a red-head."

Oliver snorted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Despite the fact that he knew it had been four long years, he still expected to see the same, scrawny 13 year old that left them behind, waving at them as she walked away to board her plane, a too-large backpack hanging off one shoulder, her glasses sitting crookedly on her nose, her smile made even brighter by the glint of braces across her teeth.

That image, however, was quickly dashed, when he suddenly heard his name being called.

"Oliver!" she shouted. "Tommy!"

His head turned abruptly, searching the crowd, and then he spotted a girl -  _no_ , a woman? - waving at him. Blonde hair fell down her shoulders; gone were the frizzy brown curls of before. The braces had been replaced with straight, pearly white teeth. Her glasses had been put away in favor of contacts. And the pale skin of before was now a warm tan, the slight redness of her shoulders telling him she'd spent a lot of time outside, and some of it without sunblock.

She'd been wearing loose jeans and a pink t-shirt when she left, but as she walked toward him now, she was all long, toned legs in cut-off jeans shorts and a blue muscle tank with the word PINK written across it in yellow. She was... not 13 anymore.

" _Wow_ ," Tommy muttered beside him.

Grinning brightly, Felicity jogged toward them, dropping her panda-face bag to the floor before she leapt up and wrapped her arms around Oliver in a hug. He knew he probably looked shell-shocked. He was still trying to get over the contradictory image in his head and now he actually had her in his arms. She was taller, though the top of her head still just barely reached his shoulder. She was curvy too, her hips pressing against his, where his hands landed and squeezed for a moment before his arms came around her. God, she was soft. Speaking of, he could feel the swell of her breasts pressed to his chest and that was... going to make things awkward really fast if he didn't stop thinking about it.

His 13 year old best friend was suddenly a really hot 17 year old girl? woman? wet dream?  _Jesus_.

Leaning back from him, she smiled up at him, that same, sparkling grin he remembered. His brain stuttered and then died on him.

"You got tall," she said, her hands falling to his shoulders as she slipped down his body to stand on her feet. Her brows hiked a little. "And buff." She rolled her eyes. "I know you mentioned that in your letters, but working out for you could've been  _actually_  walking downstairs to get a snack instead of yelling Raisa's name until she took pity on you."

He laughed, a short, choked noise that made him flush, feeling awkward. Words were not coming to him. In fact, he suddenly felt like  _he_ was still 13 and a pretty girl was actually paying him attention.

"Where's  _my_  hug?" Tommy asked, smiling brightly.

Felicity turned to him with a smile and quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. "I missed you guys."

"We missed you too, Smoaky." Tommy tugged on her hair. "Gotta admit though, I'm a little disappointed this isn't red."

She slapped his shoulder playfully. "I actually did go red for a while, a couple years ago, but I think blonde fits me better."

"It, uh, it looks good," Oliver told her, clearing his throat as he shifted his feet.

She smiled back at him, and his stomach swooped.

"So? Are you tired? You want to get a few hours' sleep? Or do we get to have fun first?" Tommy asked hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows in that way of his that said 'please, please, please.'

Felicity nodded. "I slept on the plane since I knew you guys would want to get into trouble as soon I got here." She bent to pick up her bag. "We just have to grab my luggage and we can go. Be on the lookout for a very bright, red suitcase." She threw an arm around them both and squeezed. "It's good to be home."

"Good to have you home," Tommy told her, leaning over to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek. "We've got a lot to catch you up on. Starting with all the ways we got suspended and why you should never leave us again."

Felicity threw her head back and laughed. "I'm sure it's a long list."

"Probably too long." Tommy grinned wolfishly. "But that's what happens when our favorite bullshit detector takes off to parts unknown—"

"I literally sent you a postcard from every place I was," she reminded.

"—leaving us to fend for ourselves."

Rolling her eyes, she looked up at Oliver. "What about you? Where's the guilt trip, huh?"

He shook his head, inhaling a deep breath to get his head back on straight, and looked down at her with a smile. "I'm just glad you're back."

Her smile softened and she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. "Good. Because I plan on sticking around." She lit up then. "How awesome is senior year going to be? I'm so excited I get to graduate with you guys. And  _ooh_ , college! Have you guys started on your applications yet?"

Tommy groaned. "See. Back less than five minutes and already on us. This is why our parents cried when you left town. They knew we'd never stay on track without you."

"Hey, you made it this far. I'm sure you guys would've done just fine without me."

"Maybe, but we're better with you."

Laughing under her breath, she told him, "You've gotten more charming since I left."

Tommy smirked. "What can I say? I can't help it." Just then, he spotted her suitcase going by on the belt. "Oh, hey, I think that one's yours." He detangled himself from her arm and went to grab it, maneuvering around other airport guests to get it.

Watching him go, there was a few seconds of silence before Felicity said, "You've gotten quieter." She tipped her head as she looked at Oliver curiously. "What's up?"

"Nothing." Nothing but a case of being terrified he'd trip over his own tangled tongue. Jesus, 'nervous' was not a word most would use to describe him, but he was pretty sure his palms were sweating. He shook his head, sliding his arm up around her shoulders and pulled her in tight to his side. "I just... I don't know. I guess it's hitting me how much time has passed."

"Ah..." She looked up at him knowingly. "You were expecting dorky Felicity with the glasses and braces to step off the plane."

He sighed apologetically. "Yeah, sorry... I haven't seen you in so long, I guess my brain just always stuck with what you used to look like."

She nodded. "Well, I wasn't expecting tall, buff, and handsome." She waved a hand quickly. "No, actually, I  _was_  expecting handsome. You've always been cute. So, handsome wasn't far of the mark. I mean, yes, you're probably more handsome than I thought, like GQ levels of good looking, which is a tiny bit intimidating, but you're still, you know,  _Oliver_ , so... I'm trying not to get distracted by all the really chiseled facial stuff going on."

He let out a choked laugh, shaking his head down at her. "Thank you, I think."

Felicity flushed, rolling her eyes. "I think I made that worse. What I'm saying is, yes, I kind of still imagined you like you were when you were 13 too, but... this is good. You... You look good."

He stared down at her, a sincere, soft smile playing at his lips. "You do, too."

Her eyes rose up to meet his and held for a long time. Oliver was briefly distracted by the freckles across her nose and the fullness of her lips and the curves of her cheeks. And wow, were her eyes always that color blue? Because they were... sparkling.  _Shit_. He let out a bit of a breathless sigh as something shifted in his chest.

"All right, I think this one's yours," Tommy said, interrupting the moment and drawing their attention back to him. "I just climbed over two old guys and a really pissed off looking lady to get it, anyway, so it better be yours. Even if it's not, we're taking it on principle."

Felicity laughed, reaching for the handle. "It's mine."

"I've got it," Oliver offered, taking it from her hand and directing them through the airport toward the front. "Let's get out of here. Mom was expecting us like, an hour ago. Everybody's at the manor to welcome you home. We were thinking we'd drop in, say hi, then sneak out and get dinner or something."

"Everybody?" she asked, brows hiked.

"I know your parents are there. They've been helping her set up. Raisa made cake, although that was probably because Thea's been bugging her about how a party's not a party without cake. A few friends from growing up wanted to come, too. You remember Sara Lance? And McKenna Hall?"

Felicity nodded.

"Don't forget Carter Bowen. Felicity's crush," Tommy teased.

She rolled her eyes. " _Former_  crush." She paused. "Well, currently. I mean, I haven't seen him in four years, so that could change. We could reconnect later, I don't know."

Oliver frowned. "I don't know why you even liked that guy. He's a total douche."

Felicity hip-checked him, tsking. "He was always nice to me. Plus, he was really cute. I mean, wow, have you  _seen_ his eyes? So blue."

Oliver snorted under his breath. "I have blue eyes."

"Yes, you have very pretty blue eyes," she soothed, patting his chest.

He didn't realize until just then that they were wrapped around each other. Without Tommy on her other side, it was just the two of them, with her pressed up close to his side, one hand on his far hip while the other rested on his chest, and his arm slung around her, holding her to him. They probably looked like a couple. He didn't know why that made his skin prickle with awareness.

"Well, if you're handing out praise for pretty eyes, I think mine take the cake," Tommy piped up cheerfully, batting his eyelashes at her dramatically.

Laughing, Felicity turned to him. "Were you guys always this desperate for praise? Listen, you're both pretty. You rank very high on the prettiest men I've ever seen, all right?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "High? How high? Who's number one?"

"This is what happens when we send her abroad. She goes and picks up a whole bunch of international tail and suddenly American men aren't her cup of tea." Tommy sighed, pressing a hand to his heart in faux pain.

Felicity rolled her eyes. "You're both ridiculous."

Tommy dug out his car keys and grinned down at her. "Ridiculously attractive and funny, right?"

"And charming and wealthy and smart," she agreed, shaking her head up at him.

"Have I mentioned how good it is to have you back?" he joked.

"Whatever. You missed me for more than my ability to stroke your ego."

Tommy opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and stopped himself.

Felicity eyed him knowingly, a telling flush on her cheeks saying she caught her own verbal gaffe and appreciated that he didn't take it that step further to embarrass her.

"I'm gonna go grab the car." Tommy reached for the bag Oliver was carrying. "You two stay here. I'll bring it around, all right?" With that, he took off, headed into the parking lot.

Felicity turned, raising her head to look up at Oliver. "So? The last letter I got from you said you and Laurel broke up, again, for like the sixth time. Not that I'm counting, or judging, although, if I was, I might mention that breaking up that often doesn't exactly bode well for a romantic future." She raised a hand. "Just my two cents, do with them what you will."

He half-smiled down at her. "We did. And you're right, it doesn't. But, I don't think me and Laurel really  _have_  a future. We've been doing this for a while, but, I don't know, eventually something's gotta give, right?"

"Look at you, sounding all mature." She poked his chest. "Is it too early to say I'm proud of you?"

He chuckled. "Maybe. You've only been back ten minutes. Give me a little while, I'm sure I'll screw up."

Expression softening, Felicity shook her head. "You're too hard on yourself sometimes. Have you made some mistakes? Sure. I have letters filled with incriminating evidence to prove that. But you're never malicious. It's like what Raisa always said… You have a good heart, Oliver. You always have. You just make bad decisions sometimes. You don't think them through." She shrugged. "It comes with being a teenager, and a human."

Oliver hugged her a little tighter and nodded. "Yeah, well, I think this thing with Laurel is one mistake I'm tired of repeating."

"Good." She paused. "Well, not good. I mean, you obviously really liked her and, from what I can remember, she was a good person. Her sister Sara is awesome anyway. Did I tell you she writes me sometimes? She's really funny and smart. She wants to get together now that I'm back. Of course, she mentioned getting tattoos and picking up some bikers, by I'm like, 75% sure that was a joke."

"Seventy-five?"

"Well… There's always a bit of truth, even when we're joking, and if there's anybody who'd actually want to get tattoos and pick up some bikers, it's Sara Lance."

Oliver let out a laugh and grinned at her. "I'm really glad you're back."

"I know. You were probably totally lost without me. I bet you cried yourself to sleep for the first week."

"First month," he corrected lightheartedly.

She smiled up at him, and he smiled back, and just like before, it kind of felt like the world stopped moving for a second. There was just him and her and that weird, light feeling in his chest. What even  _was_ that?

God, she was beautiful. She'd always been pretty. From the moment he met her, with her braids and her bows and her bright pink dress. She'd been cute and sweet and so very different from him. But friendly, just accepting him and Tommy into her life from the moment he offered her friendship. He remembered being so infatuated with her in those early days, charmed by how smart she was and how she used to reach out and take his hand sometimes. She always smelled like strawberries. Then that awkward stage hit her and he started liking girls and she was just Felicity, his best friend. His partner in crime. And then she was gone, just a memory and a constant flow of letters over the last four years. He used to ask her for advice about girls, about what they really meant when they said certain things. He'd tell her about his girlfriend of the week or how he was doing in school or how his parents were fighting again. She was his confidante, someone he could always confide in and trust. And those elements had always been important, they'd always defined their friendship, but now he was wondering if maybe they'd help define something else.

A horn honked behind them and Tommy's flashy car pulled up, waiting for them to hop in.

Felicity climbed into the back seat and shuffled to the middle while Oliver took the front passenger seat.

"Ready to see everybody?" Tommy wondered as they took off from the airport at a speed not quite recommended by the street signs.

Felicity shrugged. "A little nervous. It's been a while. My parents came and visited me while I was traveling through Spain last year. That was nice. But I haven't really seen anybody since I left. I was telling Oliver that Sara still writes me. Not as often as you guys do, but we talk on the phone, too. I haven't seen McKenna or Carter since I was 13 though. It's a little nerve-wracking."

"I don't know why. Have you seen a mirror lately?" Tommy grinned back at her. "You, Smoaky, are  _hot_."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "So, I'm not the gangly 13 year old you guys remember. I don't know if I'd go so far as to say 'hot' though."

His brows hiked. "Oliver, help me out here. Do my eyes deceive me or is our Smoaky  _smokin'?_ "

He glanced at Tommy and then back at Felicity. "You're gorgeous," he said, soft and sincere.

She stared back at him, a curious look on her face.

"See!" Tommy crowed, reaching over to slap Oliver's chest. "Senior year is going to be full of us beating away the guys with sticks."

A muscle ticked in Oliver's cheek as his lips pursed. He was more than willing to blame it on the fact that he had  _always_ been a little possessive of his friends. He didn't like sharing, and Tommy and Felicity had always been his. But this felt a little different. He didn't care if Tommy dated as long as whoever he was with didn't get in the way of their friendship. And, really, he had nothing to worry about, Tommy wasn't a going-steady kind of guy. He much preferred immediate gratification and then moving on. Besides Laurel, Oliver could relate to that. Felicity, on the other hand, she wasn't like them, not in that regard. He saw her as more of a long-term relationship type. And she'd proven that when, a year after going abroad, she wrote him about Ed Raymond, one of the other students in the program, that she went on to date for two years. What she'd said earlier about Carter Bowen ran through his head. What if they did catch up and there was a spark? What if he had to watch Felicity and Carter flirt and get together and spend all of senior year sucking each other's faces off? His stomach turned.

"You all right, Buddy, you look like you're gonna blow chunks," Tommy said, glancing at him.

"Fine," he muttered.

"He's probably just car sick," Felicity mentioned. "We should roll down a window."

Tommy did just that but a gust of wind suddenly whipped inside from the high speeds and Felicity shrieked as her hair started flying around wildly. After the window was rolled back up, she was a mess of hair, tangled and windblown, covering her face. She dragged it back into place, frowning as her fingers caught on a few knots. "Great. This is just how I wanted to look when I saw everybody for the first time."

"It'll be fine. I don't think anybody's going to notice anything besides your legs for the first five minutes anyway."

"I highly doubt my parents or Oliver's are going to care what my legs look like," she snorted.

"I don't know. Your dad might wonder where the hell the rest of your pants are. Legs like that are just short of illegal."

Felicity grinned. "No wonder you've had so many girlfriends, Tommy, you could flirt with a wall."

"I probably have a few times. There're been some pretty epic parties since you left."

"I'm listening…" she encouraged.

The rest of the ride was filled with Tommy informing her of some of their best parties and worst drunken mistakes. Oliver could admit many of them were not his finest moments. Although, peeing in the Merlyn's front yard fountain wasn't something he really regretted. Malcolm Merlyn was a dick. For his part, he tried to add a few details in here or there, things that were hazy to Tommy and not as much to him. But, for the most part, he found himself focusing on Felicity's laugh and her smile and the sound of her voice. Was it throatier than it used to be? Husky even. He shifted in his chair.  _Jesus Christ_. What the hell was happening to him?

…

Two hours later, Oliver found himself watching Felicity flit around the room from person to person, sharing stories about her time abroad and hugging everyone happily. Sara Lance had ducked out an hour ago, after making plans for her and Felicity to catch up and talk about cute, Italian boys. McKenna had left shortly after her, promising Felicity they'd have a chance to really sit down and catch up soon. Much to Oliver's chagrin, Carter hadn't left. In fact, he was sticking close to Felicity's side as she regaled Oliver's father with a story that had him laughing deeply. And the way Carter was looking at Felicity said that he too had noticed just how well she'd grown up.

"Are you planning on doing anything about that?" Tommy asked, taking a seat beside him.

"About what?" Oliver muttered, tearing his eyes away from them to look at his best friend.

Tommy snorted. "Are you kidding? You've been staring at her with hearts in your eyes since she walked off that plane."

He rolled his eyes. "I haven't—"

"Save it, all right? I know you." He shook his head. "Hey, I was there when you met her, remember? You were just as lovestruck then as you are now."

Oliver pursed his lips. "It was a crush. I was over it a week later."

"Were you?" Tommy's eyes narrowed. "Because I remember you scaring off every boy that ever so much as smiled at her. You used to hold her hand everywhere we went. You were each other's first kiss because, and I quote, you didn't want anyone else to kiss her first." Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Looks like you don't want anybody else to kiss her last, either."

Gritting his teeth, Oliver glowered. "She's my best friend. I was protective."

"Oliver," he scoffed. "Do you remember how much you moped when she left? Seriously. For like a month, you didn't want to do anything. You just re-read all the comic books she left for you. You took  _notes_ so you'd have things to talk to her about in your letters and when she called. You saved every letter she ever wrote you in a shoe box. You used to read them when you were having a bad day. And you  _always_  use her when you're trying to get away from clingy girls. Remember all those times you said you had a girlfriend named Felicity so whoever you hooked up with that week would leave you alone after? I mean, you were a crappy fake boyfriend, but still."

Oliver struggled with a reply but came up empty.

"All I'm saying is, yes, Felicity came home and she's ridiculously hot. Like, she could model for Maxim if she wasn't so hellbent on going to MIT. But if you think what you're feeling right now and all of this jealousy stuff is new, then you haven't been paying attention. Because, seriously, I've had a bet going with Raisa about when you two would realize you're in love with each other. And I'm running out of time for you to wake up and smell the Smoak. So man up, dude." He reached over and slapped his chest. "Or Carter Bowen's gonna sweep her off her feet before you ever get your chance."

With that, Tommy wandered off, probably to tease Thea.

Oliver let his words register, let them roll around in his head for a while. Had he always cared about Felicity? Absolutely. Had those feelings always been more than friendship? He wasn't sure. But, were they now? They definitely felt that way.

Felicity laughed, her head falling back, and Oliver remembered that being cautious wasn't his shtick. He was an act and deal with the consequences after kind of guy. So, he stood from his chair and he crossed the room, his hand settling low on Felicity's back.

"Hey," he said, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. "Can I talk to you?"

She looked up at him. "Of course." She smiled back at the others. "Excuse us."

Oliver led her out of the parlor and down the hall, circling around for them to climb the stairs to the second floor. Felicity didn't bother asking where they were going; it wasn't long until they were standing in the bedroom they'd spent a good portion of their friendship hanging out in. She used to sit on the edge of his desk while he did homework, pointing out mistakes and explaining an easier way to solve things. The manor used to be their playground when they were kids, a great place for hide and seek and tag. But as she walked into his room then, he didn't see it like he did when they were little. It wasn't that place where they'd hung out, telling ghost stories to scare each other when they had sleepovers when they were eight. The girl standing in front of him wasn't little anymore. She didn't have the braids or the bows or even the brown hair. She'd grown up and she was just as beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside. She always had been, but maybe he'd never really noticed it before.

She smiled over at him. "This place is even bigger than I remember…" she said as she looked around.

He walked toward her, his eyes washing over her face and her sunkissed shoulders and—

"You're wearing the bracelets I made you."

Felicity looked down and then raised her arm, plucking at the multi-colored bracelets ringing her wrist. He'd sent them to her in the mail. He'd originally learned how to make them for Thea, but a lot of the finished product wound up in an envelope with Felicity's name on it. "Of course I am. I love them." She smiled. "I missed you and this way I always had a piece of you with me."

He swallowed thickly. "I, uh, I missed you, too."

She stared at him a long moment. "So? You wanted to talk?"

He nodded, picking at his thumb with his forefinger in a nervous gesture of his. "Yeah, I…" He shook his head, struggling with how to word things. Finally, he took a page from her book and just blurted out, "You know, I had a crush on you when I met you. For about a week, I… I remember I told Raisa about you, every day. I always had a story about something you said or did or how you smiled at me and… Well, the stories didn't stop. I just, I thought I got over it. I was eight and crushes came and went, so… But I don't know, Tommy said something, said that I never really got over it, or you, and I started thinking, about what it was like when you were gone and how much I missed you and what it felt like when I was a kid and you were still here…

"And the funny thing is, I've been with a  _lot_ of girls and I've had girlfriends and I even thought I was in love with Laurel for a while. Maybe I was. I don't know. But… I know that seeing you, being around you, having you back, that feels completely different. It… My heart does this weird thing where it just kind of falls into my stomach and sometimes when I look at you, I feel like I can't breathe. And... I don't know what that is.

"I don't… I don't know if saying all of this is going to make things weird or make you feel uncomfortable or if, maybe I just totally ruined our friendship. But… I like you. More than I've ever liked anyone. And I think I have for a lot longer than I even knew. So… What do you say?" He raised his eyes to meet hers, realizing he'd been staring at her chin the whole time in an effort not to talk himself out of it. "I hear the best relationships are built on friendships first."

Felicity stared at him a long moment, her mouth slightly agape. "I…" She let out a faint laugh and walked toward him. "I had a crush on you too, when I was eight."

He nodded, his heart thudding in his chest. "What about now?"

"Now?" She tipped her head back, searching his eyes. "Let's see."

She lifted up onto the tips of her toes, a hand sliding around the back of his neck, and she brought him down to meet her lips in a short, quick kiss. A shot of something sparked through him and he let out a sigh and melted into her. Their exploratory kiss quickly melded into something deeper and slower. She hummed, her arms wrapping around his neck, and he gripped her hips, his fingers sliding just under the fabric of her shirt to touch her warm, bare skin, pulling her in tighter.

Oliver had kissed girls before, a lot of them. He'd done a lot more than kiss them, too. But this, all of this, felt completely different. Like a dam had broken, the overflow was a rush of feeling and taking and finally having. He buried a hand in her hair and twisted it around his fingers as he broke from her mouth and kissed down her chin and her neck, sucking on her collar bones and stroking a hand up under her shirt, feeling her shiver and let out a little squeak as his fingertips trailed over her skin. He liked that noise. He wanted to hear that again. He wanted to explore every inch of her until he knew every spot on her entire body. And after, he wanted to talk to her about the latest issue of the comic book series they were currently reading.

He grinned, sliding his hand down over the swell of her ass and curling his fingers around the back of her thigh, lifting it up and hitching it over his hip. She brought her other leg up and they stumbled through the room together, her hands stroking through his hair and down his neck.

He dragged his nose up her neck, chuckling under his breath when her legs squeezed around him.

She still smelled like strawberries.

An hour later, that was how his parents found them. Celebrating on the desk they used to do homework on together, with Felicity's legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed her back against the desk top, his mouth peppering kisses over her upper chest. Thankfully, they were still clothed; though, mostly unseen, Oliver's hand had wiggled up under the front of her shirt, fingers peeling back the bikini top she was wearing to cup her breast, his thumb rubbing around her nipple. Upon interruption, her jean-clad hips stopped rocking up into his, ending the much-enjoyed friction.

Robert let out a short sigh and turned to Moira. "Fine. So they didn't wait for college. But I'm still in the pool for them not getting married until after she finishes MIT."

Felicity sputtered, her eyes wide. "Wh-What?"

Oliver laughed, burying his face in her neck.

Five years later, a week after Felicity graduated from MIT and Oliver finished at Cambridge College, he proposed. Eight months after, they were married. Robert smugly collected the pool money during the reception.


	18. olicity + meet as kids/fall in love + meet again as adults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can we get some kid!fluff. like oliver and felicity meet when they're kids and he decides he loves her???? - anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **polyvore** : [wedding](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=115962083)

Oliver Queen was four years old when he met what he deemed to be the love of his life.

Evidence to prove this was taken from what he learned from his grandpa, who, just the day before, had informed Oliver that he knew grandma was it for him when she smiled at him and he wanted to spend his whole life making sure she never stopped.

When Oliver met Felicity, she was not smiling; instead, she was crying. It was a high point that summer and her scoop of mint chip slid right off her cone to land half on the ground and half on her shoes with little cat faces all over them. Her blonde hair was up in pigtails with little cherry hair ties, and the pink dress she wore boasted a large yellow flower on the front.

She was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen in his four years.

Leaving behind Mary, the nanny he'd come to the park with, who spent more time gossiping with the other nannies than she did actually watching him, he walked right up to the pretty, crying girl and said, "I've got two whole dollars. I can get you a new one."

Sniffling, she blinked up at him. Rubbing at a few stray tears on her cheeks, she said, "Who're you?"

"My name's Oliver," he declared, rocking forward onto the tips of his feet. "What's your name? I bet it's pretty."

She frowned at him. "How come?"

"Because  _you're_ pretty," he said guilelessly.

Putting a hand on her hip, she gave a huff and told him, "I'm not pretty. I'm smart!"

Oliver tipped his head, his brow furrowed. "Can you be both?"

Pausing, she gave it some thought, and then said, "Yes..." Swinging her arms side to side, she told him, "I'm Felicity."

Nodding sagely, he declared, "That's a pretty name. I was right."

"And a smart name, too. It means 'happiness'; my bubbe told me so."

"You weren't happy when I saw you. You were crying." He turned then and pointed toward the ice cream cart in the distance. "I can buy you more and then you'll be really happy." Brightening, he said, "If it falls off this time, I'll catch it for you."

Felicity smiled at him. "Okay!"

Oliver held his hand out then. "You have to hold my hand though because Raisa says I'm not allowed to go anywhere unless I'm holding someone's hand." He shrugged. "Mary is busy though, so we have to hold each other's hands." Admittedly, that was a bit of a stretch, since he'd been walking around holding nobody's hand for a while now, but, well, he wanted to hold Felicity's.

Felicity reached out and took his small hand in hers and Oliver proudly walked them over to the ice cream truck.

"Where's your nanny?" he wondered as they waited in line behind a string of other kids.

Felicity's nose wrinkled cutely. "I don't have a nanny. I have a mommy and a daddy."

"I have a mommy, a daddy, a nanny, and a Raisa," he told her happily.

"What's a Raisa?"

Frowning, he stared at her, stumped. "She's Raisa," he said simply, shrugging. "She makes me sandwiches and kisses my owies and tells me stories."

"That sounds like a mommy..." Felicity told him skeptically.

Oliver tipped his head thoughtfully. "No, mommy makes me wear suits and tells me to smile and makes me talk to old people at parties."

Felicity frowned. "That doesn't sound like fun."

He shook his head, because it wasn't. It was boring.

Finally, they were at the front of the line and Oliver dug his two dollars out of the pocket of his shorts. "She wants an ice cream. The green one with the chocolate in it."

"Mint chip!" Felicity declared excitedly.

Taking his two dollars, the man scooped out the order and handed it over to her carefully.

"We have to eat it soon because it's melting," Felicity said worriedly as ice cream dribbled down her hand. She licked it up and hurried away from the cart with Oliver right beside her. "If you eat that side, I'll eat this side," she told him, taking a seat in the grass.

Oliver shrugged, leaning over to lick his side of the ice cream. It was a messy event, getting ice cream all over their faces, and some of it on her dress and in her hair. But they laughed, eating every bite of it, and Oliver kept his hands cupped underneath, just in case any tried to fall.

When they were done, they were a mess, but Oliver decided she was even cuter. She used the skirt of her dress to wipe at her face while he used his t-shirt on his, and then they sat with their backs against the rough bark of a tree.

"Felicity?" he said, picking at the laces of his running shoes.

"Yeah?"

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

Turning her head, she looked at him with her brow raised. "What's that?"

"It's like a mommy and daddy before they have kids. They hold hands and kiss sometimes and he buys her lots of ice cream and makes her smile."

Felicity tapped her chin as she gave it some thought before deciding, "Okay. I'll be your girlfriend."

He grinned at her toothily. "Then I'm your boyfriend! And I'll make sure you always smile, okay?"

She stared up at him happily. "I think you're a good boyfriend."

Preening, he puffed his chest out a little.

Felicity giggled at him and Oliver reached over to take her hand, even though their fingers were sticky.

Twenty minutes later, a frantic looking blonde lady appeared in front of them. "There you are! Felicity Megan Smoak! You can't just wander off like that! I was worried sick."

Dropping her chin a little, Felcity's lower lip wobbled. "I'm sorry, mommy. But I saw a squirrel and I wanted to see if it had a family and I was going to ask it but then my ice cream fell and then Oliver came and he said that he would buy me a new ice cream and then we got one and we ate all of it and now he is my boyfriend and he makes me smile."

Her mother blinked at her and then sighed lightly. "I assume you're Oliver then," she said, directing her eyes to him.

He smiled up at her. "Yup."

"Thank you, Oliver, for getting Felicity an ice cream. That was very nice of you. Even if she should never speak to strangers, even if they  _are_  nice little boys."

"We're not strangers. She's my girlfriend," Oliver said simply.

"Be that as it may..." Felicity's mother stifled an amused smile. "Felicity, it's time to come home. Come on. We'll have to stop by the bathroom since I think you got more ice cream on you than in you."

Felicity frowned then, tears filling her eyes. "But what about Oliver? He has to come, too. He's my boyfriend!"

Her mother shook her head. "Honey, I'm sure he has parents around here somewhere. He has to go home with them."

"My nanny's over there. But I bet she wouldn't care." He frowned then. "But Raisa would be really sad. I don't want to leave her." He stared up at Felicity's mom hopefully. "Can I bring Raisa?"

Kneeling down in front of them, she said, "Listen, both of you, boyfriends and girlfriends don't live together, okay? Not right away, anyway. Not before marriage, even. Which is a long, long time away for both of you. So Oliver will go home to his family and you will come home with us. And years and years from now, you guys can get married and live together and I won't stop you. And, if she wants, I'm sure this Raisa will go with you. Okay?"

Seeming to mull it over a minute, Oliver finally nodded. "Okay..." he said skeptically, but pushed himself up from the grass. He held a hand out to help Felicity up too and smiled at her. "Will you come back tomorrow?"

Felicity looked up to her mom, who smiled, nodding down at her. "I will!" she told him brightly.

He grinned at her. "Me too. And we can hold hands and eat ice cream again."

"Okay!"

Oliver stared at her a long moment then before leaning over and pressing a kiss to her sticky cheek. "See you tomorrow, Felicity."

Reaching up to take her mother's hand, she beamed at him. "Bye, Oliver!"

He watched as she walked off with her mom, looking over her shoulder occasionally and waving.

When she was out of sight, he sighed, kicking an acorn on the ground, and then he walked off to find Mary and tell her that they had to come back to the park tomorrow, because he had to see his girlfriend.

* * *

**Thirteen Years Later**

Tommy laughed, nearly spraying coffee from his nose. "All right, all right, tell me what happened next. I mean, what is this, like, the  _third_  time Raisa's walked in on you getting head from some girl?"

"Fourth," he corrected with a smirk.

Tommy grinned. "You've probably scarred her."

He rolled his eyes. "All she ever says is that I need to find a nice girl and settle down. Something about how when I fall in love, it's going to kick my ass and it'll be all my fault.  _Whatever_."

Tommy shrugged. "Who'd you hook up with again? What was her name?"

"I don't know. Theresa, or something. I wasn't really asking for a name."

" _Man_ , you are killing it, though. I mean, how many is that since you and Laurel broke up? It's gotta be double digits now... There was that red-head, last week, you remember? She was a number. And that brunette, with the nose piercing..."

As Tommy trailed off, trying to tally up his latest conquests, Oliver found his attention wandering. They were sitting outside a coffee shop that he may or may not have hooked up with a barista in the bathroom of not three days ago. He was about to turn back to Tommy and remind him of the cute girl with the belly button ring when he saw a pink skirt out of his peripheral vision. He turned, seeing blonde hair and long, lean legs. His brows hiked.

The girl turned, reaching up to push her glasses up the slope of her nose. She was cute. Biting her lip and tucking her hair behind her ears, a charm bracelet glinting on her wrist.

"Felicity!" a voice called, and she turned, raising her head and grinning at the girl jogging toward her.

Sara Lance, he recognized, and frowned.

With a laugh, Sara said, "A skirt, really? Like I'm not already insanely jealous of those legs." She rolled her eyes and started backing up. "C'mon, Smoak, we're already late for the show."

"Hey, I'm not the one who's late. You're the one who needed ten more minutes to feel Jessica Chambers up, remember?"

Sara laughed. "I don't think I'll forget," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

With a snort, Felicity waved at her. "Go grab the tickets. I'm waiting on a call back from my mom. I forgot to tell her we were going to a movie."

"Sure." Sara turned on her heel and started over the road to the theatre across the street.

Felicity, on the other hand, focused on her phone. "Come on, come on, pick up your phone..." After a few more seconds, she rolled her eyes. "Hi, mom, I know you hate it when I leave messages instead of talking to you but you're not picking up and I forgot to tell you this morning that me and Sara are going to a movie. Nothing R-rated, I swear. Not that I think that's a big deal because I'm seventeen and if I want to watch something with gratuitous sex or violence, I should be able to. But, whatever, this thing is probably going to cut me off. So, just, if you get home and I'm not there, I haven't been murdered or kidnapped. Or, well, as of right now, with me leaving this message, I haven't. Something could happen after the movie, but I doubt it. Just to be sure, I'll call you though. Okay. Anyway, bye. Have a good day. Love you."

Shaking her head, she snapped her phone shut and tucked it away in her purse.

Oliver didn't know when he stood up from the table, but, just before she stepped off the curb to cross the street, he was there, just within arm's reach.

"Hey," he said, feeling oddly nervous.

Head swiveling abruptly, she turned to look at him. "Uh, hi?" She frowned up at him.

"It's Felicity, right?"

Blinking, she nodded slowly. "Yeah..."

He grinned. "It's a pretty name... Smart, too." He held a hand out. "I'm Oliver."

She glanced down at his hand and then up at him and then, like a fog was lifting from a vague memory, she half-smiled. "Do we know each other?"

He grinned. "Well, you never really broke up with me when I was four, so, surprise, I'm still your boyfriend."

Flushing, she ducked her head in laughter. Reaching out to take his hand, she gave it a shake. "Right. Squirrels and wasted ice cream. I think I remember that."

"I, uh... I know you got a movie to go to, but... Maybe after, when you haven't been kidnapped or murdered, we could get together... Maybe get ice cream?"

Smiling up at him, she said. "Yeah. We could do that."

" _Felicity!_ " an impatient Sara yelled across the road.

Felicity waved back at her and then looked up at Oliver. "I can meet you at the park, by the fountain. Say six?"

He nodded, a little more eagerly than he perhaps wanted to. "Yeah, six is good."

"Okay, great."

Smiling more sincerely than he had in a long time, he rubbed the back of his neck. "See you tonight, Felicity."

Smiling, she stepped off the curb. "Bye, Oliver."

He watched her walk away until she was inside the theater.

Tommy stepped up beside him, clapped his shoulder, and said, "Was that the girl you met in the park when you were a kid? The one you said you were going to marry?"

He grinned. "Yeah."

"Oh man, you are so screwed," he laughed.

Oliver didn't even deny it.

* * *

**Nine Years Later**

Oliver tugged on his sleeves, readjusting his grandfather's cufflinks nervously.

"So, Sara and I have a bet that she chickens out and leaves you at the altar," Tommy said from his left.

Oliver glared at him.

He held his hands up in surrender. "All right, it was in poor taste. I was kidding. Like she'd actually ditch you. I mean, come on, a story like this? You two are so sweet together, I've got cavities with your names on it."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "We're not that bad."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "You've been together since you were four, with a thirteen year hiatus, but still. You lasted long-distance through college. You  _bought_ an ice cream shop so you could set up an elaborate proposal. You randomly send her love letters because you're a sap. And you send her yellow flowers every year on the anniversary of the day you guys met because she had a yellow flower on her dress." He shook his head. "I just got three cavities _thinking_ about all of that."

Oliver snorted. He was about to reply, when the wedding march began playing and his attention was quickly diverted to the doors down the aisle.

"You're gonna be one of those grooms who cries when you see her, aren't you?" Tommy teased.

"Shut up," he muttered back.

Tommy's chuckle answered him.

When the doors opened, Thea was at the front, holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a pretty green bridesmaid dress. Behind her were Felicity's two best friends from college, Kelsey and Jennifer, and behind them was her maid of honor, Sara Lance.

Finally, after all four women moved to the opposite side of him and Tommy, Felicity stepped in through the doors, her arm linked through John Diggle's, her good friend and a body guard he had hired when she'd returned from college and the media attention on the Queen family and anyone close to them had tripled.

She was gorgeous. In a dress that looked a shade closer to pink than white with floral lace all over it, the fabric swishing loosely around her legs, she was absolutely stunning. Her hair was tied back in an elaborate knot that he was looking forward to pulling apart, letting curls spill down around her shoulders.

Contrary to his earlier denial, Oliver did feel tears spring to his eyes. And he thought, if his grandfather were still alive, he'd understand why. Unlike Tommy who had yet to have a significant relationship, emphasis on  _yet_ , Oliver knew that this, with Felicity, it was everything to him. He might've been a naive little kid when he first met her, but he had the right idea, because making Felicity smile for the rest of her life, that was exactly what he wanted to do.

From that first real date in the park, things had just come together for them. They had their ups and down and their arguments, but it only ever made them stronger. She went off to MIT while he tried a few different colleges before settling on one and getting a degree in business. Two years earlier, he and Tommy opened a club while Felicity took a job at QC in the IT Department. They were happy, with a penthouse downtown, more computers than one person could ever need, a wine collection Felicity was happy to raid after a long day, and a seasonal ice cream shop that actually did pretty good. Admittedly, they were probably their own best customers, but there was never a reason to complain about an endless supply of ice cream that he frequently licked off her body.

Felicity was his rock. Falling in love with her when he was four, and then again at seventeen, and probably every day since, had been the best thing to ever happen to him, and he knew that. Which was why he didn't hesitate to ask her to marry him after they'd settled down in Starling City together, college behind them and their future nothing but an open canvas.

John paused in front of him, putting her hand in Oliver's, and told them both, "Congratulations," before he moved to take his seat next to a weepy Elizabeth Smoak, whom he knew would be telling the story of how he and Felicity met for the rest of the night, to anyone who would listen.

Oliver drew Felicity up in front of him, just now realizing that his hands were actually shaking a little. She squeezed her fingers around his and smiled up at him.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hey," he answered back, sounding a little breathless.

"So I was thinking, after I get out of this dress and you're officially Mr. Felicity Smoak, we could have room service send up some mint chip."

He laughed, his head falling back, and blinked away the sheen of tears. Ignoring Tommy's jab about not kissing the bride until he was told to, Oliver cupped Felicity's cheeks and leaned in to press his lips to hers once, twice, three times, murmuring, "I love you," before he stepped back, taking her hands once more.

From there on out, the wedding went off without a hitch, and, well, the marriage?

Needless to say, Oliver made sure Felicity did a whole lot of smiling.


	19. olicity pregnancy / rolicity friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Would you mind writing some Pregnant!Felicity + Oliver? If you don't mind! - **anonymous**

Roy frowned down at the desk in front of him, his brow furrowed. “Uh, didn’t you piss on all of these?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that sanitary?”

"Are you serious? There are eight pregnancy tests in front of you, seven of which say positive, and one that almost definitely glitched because that is  _not_ a positive or a negative sign, it’s just a weird squiggle that’s mocking me.” Felicity paced behind him, wringing her hands. “Do you know what this means? It means a baby. A real, live, screaming, crying, pooping baby, that needs love and attention and probably not really pointy arrows, which, if you haven’t noticed, is what we carry in large supply!” She waved her hands around meaningfully.

"Yeah, well, I don’t think you’re poppin’ Junior out down here, so the arrows might not be a big deal for a couple years, when you’ve gotta keep an eye on him and whatever bad guy we’re running down." He snorted. "If the kid’s half as curious as you are, you’re gonna have a problem on your hands."

"Thank you, Roy, that made me feel so much better," she snapped. With a groan, she turned to look at him, chewing on her lip. "What do I do? What do I say?"

"Well, I’d start with throwing out all these sticks and then Clorox-ing the shit out of your desk. Then, I don’t know, throw your hands up and say "Surprise, you’re a dad!" Worked on my dad… ‘til he took off when I was six." 

Felicity blinked at him. “We can talk about your childhood trauma in a minute. How is ‘surprise’ at all a good answer? Oliver hates surprises.  _I_ hate surprises.” She frowned at him. “What’s Plan B?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Why am I coming up with any of these plans?” 

"Because you’re here, you found the evidence, now you have to help. If you weren’t so impatient, you wouldn’t be dealing with this. It’s your own fault."

"All right,  _mom_ , but it’s not like you were really hiding the evidence…” He waved his hand back to her desk. “Seriously, you peed on these things. How are you not freaking out about how close they are to your precious computers?”

Scoffing, she said, “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t clean them first? And don’t call me that. I’m already having a mini-freak out.” Hugging her arms around herself, she let out a heavy sigh. “Google, help me, I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean, I can’t be a mom. I barely  _had_ a mom. I have no idea how to do it for someone else.”

Roy snorted. 

She glared in reply.

"Look, I don’t want to burst the self-deprecating bubble you got goin’ on, but you pretty much mother this whole team. Seriously." Shifting his feet, he said sincerely, if awkwardly, "You’ll be a great mom. Better than mine, definitely." 

Felicity blamed the added hormones for why she teared up right then. She also blamed them for when she threw her arms over the youngest member of Team Arrow and hugged him, possibly crying on his shoulder a little bit, though she’d never cop to getting snot on his precious red hoodie. 

The clang of the door above drew their attention. Digg and Oliver walked down the stairs, stopping half-way to look on at the peculiar embrace of Felicity and Roy. 

"Should we ask?" Digg wondered, brow raised. 

Oliver frowned. “Are you crying?”

Felicity stared up at him, wide-eyed, and then squeaked. “Surprise?”

There was a long pause as Oliver stared at her in confusion. 

Rolling his eyes, Roy reached back and grabbed up three of the eight pregnancy sticks. “Surprise, Queen, you’re gonna be a dad.” 

Digg managed to catch Oliver just before he fell down the stairs in shock.

"See?" Roy turned to Felicity. "Easy." 


	20. roy delivers felicity's baby + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: felicity gives birth in the foundry and roy delivers the baby - **anonymous**

She wouldn’t let him carry her up the stairs. Something about how she didn’t care if he had super-strength, there was no way she was letting him pick her up when she felt like she weighed the same as a mini-van. She also wouldn’t let him call for an ambulance, but that had more to do with the fact that they were in the foundry and, yeah, talk about blowing a secret. So, there he was, facing down the scariest thing yet.

Felicity was panting, resting back on her elbows as she laid on the training pats, her skin flushed and dressed in a sheen of sweat. Her glasses were crooked and fogged, her hair plastered to her face and neck. “ _Do_. Something,” she ordered through gritted teeth. 

Roy stared down at her with wide, panicked eyes. “What the hell am  _I_ supposed to do? I’m a freaking bartender-slash-secret-vigilante-sidekick- _thing_. I didn’t learn how to do…” He waved at her, “ _this_.”

"Roy Harper, so help me God, if you do not help me get this baby out, I will set your stupid red hoodie on fire  _while you are still wearing it!_ _”_

He gaped at her for a long second before finally pulling his sleeves up and moving to kneel in front of her. “Okay, uh, I… I don’t know what to do from here. I mean, do I catch it? Are you pushing?” He shook his head, his shoulders lifted high. “Seriously, I wasn’t trained for this.” 

Moaning in pain, Felicity let her head fall back. “We were supposed to have a real doctor and drugs! This was not in the birth plan!” Sniffling, she cried, “I want my birth plaaan…” 

"So do I!" he exclaimed, looking far more terrified for a boy who had faced down mobsters, killers, and drug dealers, oh my. 

Dragging in a shuddery breath, she accused, “This is all your fault.”

“ _My_ fault? Hey, I didn’t knock you up and then take off to freaking Prague, all right? That’s on your boyfriend!” 

"You, all of you stupid superheroes, it’s all your fault. I could be living a safe, boring life in IT, without labor pains and smelly gym mats." 

"All right, yeah, so that sounds a little better, but I mean,  _c’mon_ , there’s gotta be upsides, right?” he encouraged. “This kid’s kinda kickin’ your ass right now, but it’ll probably be cute, in a few years, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Thea’s related to it, if it’s got any of her genes, it’ll be pretty cute.”

"This is not the time for you to get sappy about Thea," she huffed. "There is a football sized human being trying to get out of a very small hole in my body. You need to pay attention!" 

“ _I am!_  And gross, I didn’t need the visual,” he muttered, mouth screwing up in distaste.

"You’re going to get a lot more than a mental image in a minute, because you’re about to see a whole lot more of me than either of us ever wanted you to!"

Roy blinked at her and then looked down and frowned. “Wait, cant I just, I don’t know,  _catch_ it?”

"Oh my God, why did Diggle leave me alone with you?" she lamented. "Why didn’t _you_  go with Oliver and leave John behind to do this? He has the medical training. Why wasn’t this in Plan C?” she sniffled. 

Roy sat back on his heels. “We’re on Plan C? If the hospital was Plan A, then what the hell was Plan B?” 

Groaning, she told him, “Closing my legs and praying for a miracle.”

He snorted. “Yeah, you might’ve wanted to start out with that one.” 

Felicity glared at him. “Just for your information, even though you  _really_ don’t want to know, keeping my legs closed wasn’t much of an option. He just finished on the salmon ladder and he was all sweaty and smile-y and it seemed like a really good idea at the time. All right? I had no idea that, nine months later, I would be giving birth to a baby on the same mats I conceived it on, so cut me a freaking break!” 

Roy frowned down at the mats. “Have these been cleaned?”

Felicity opened her mouth, more than likely to yell at him, when a wave of pain struck her. “Get. This. Baby. Out. Of. Me,” she panted. 

So, Roy did. Kind of. Eventually. After a lot of confusion and maybe some Googling. And, when mom and baby were a lot more calm, he managed to get them out of the foundry and into a car to the hospital. Apparently Felicity was a lot less concerned about her weight when she had a red-faced squirming 7 pound baby to coo at. 

"Does the proud daddy want to hold his daughter?" the nurse asked, bringing out the pink-swathed baby he’d literally helped bring into the world. 

Throwing his hands up, Roy said, “I think I’ve held her enough. Seriously. There was placenta. A word I never wanted to use. I’ve seen more of my friend’s…  _stuff_ than I ever wanted to. I might be scarred for life. If I could sue for mental damages, I might. And I’m not the dad, all right. I mean, uncle, maybe. She’s kinda cute when she’s not all bloody and screaming in my face. But her dad’s on a jet back into town right now and I think he might  _actually_ kick my ass if you call me that kid’s dad again.”

"Maybe on principle," a voice said from the doorway. 

A confused nurse turned along with Roy to see Oliver Queen in the doorway. 

Roy sighed, shoulders slumping with relief.

Oliver’s attention wasn’t on them, however, eyes set on the baby in the nurse’s arms. He dropped a jacket to the chair beside Felicity’s bed before walking over. He reached up, tugging the soft, pink blanket out of the way a little, and swallowed tightly as he stared down at his daughter. “Wow,” he breathed, blinking rapidly.

"See? This is the dad," Roy said, waving at him. 

Oliver briefly glanced at the nurse before he took his daughter out of her arms and carefully cradled her against his chest. The nurse left them alone then, silently leaving the room.

Oliver smiled down at his little girl. “She’s perfect.”

"Yeah, all ten fingers and toes, counted ‘em myself," Roy said, sticking his hands in his pockets as he rocked forward and backward on his feet.

Oliver glanced at him, clearing his throat before he said, “Thank you, Roy. For being there for her… For both of them.” 

He nodded, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, well, whatever. I mean, we’re kinda family, I guess. ‘Least that’s what Felicity’s always saying.”

"Good to hear you’re listening," Felicity’s sleepy voice murmured.

Oliver grinned at her, moving to join her by the bed. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead while she reached up, rubbing her fingers over their daughter’s cheek. 

"Hey," Oliver said quietly.

"Hi," she murmured back.

Roy shifted, feeling like he was interrupting an intimate moment. He started toward the door to give them some space when Felicity’s voice calling his name made him pause.

He looked back at the family, Oliver now sitting on the edge of the bed with Felicity’s head on his chest as they held their newborn baby close. 

Felicity smiled at him softly. “Thank you for tonight. I know it’s not exactly what you signed up for when you joined the team, but… You were great.”

He half-smiled at her, still a little uncomfortable with the praise, and then shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I’m not jumping at the chance to deliver baby #2 for you guys, but… Wasn’t the worst experience of my life.”

"A shining endorsement," Oliver said, mouth twitching with amusement.

Roy rolled his eyes. Still, before he left, he said, “Congratulations, by the way.”

"Thank you," Felicity replied. "Same to you,  _uncle_.”

Roy didn’t let himself grin until he was well out of sight, but a proud uncle he definitely was.


	21. forever + olicity + au!teens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [gif submission](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/79337684379) \- **anon**

 

Oliver Queen was a sap. Oh, his reputation might say different, but Felicity knew the truth. 

This was supposed to be a summer fling. As in, visit her cool aunt, spend too much of her break catching up on some reading, visit the beach in an effort to not blind people with her pasty skin, and return home no worse than she started out. But then she ran into Oliver when his,  _way_  too, expensive car got a flat tire and he, being the over-pampered son of a billionaire, had no idea how to fix it. So, being the good samaritan her mother raised her to be, she gave him a hand, and he gave her his number, and she took him up on an offer to get coffee some time because she didn’t know anybody else her own age and there was no possible way to spin ‘I played a lot of bingo with my aunt this summer’ into something interesting. 

And now, two months later, she was sitting in the back of her aunt’s grungy truck, parked beneath the trees down near a lake, a cool breeze trying and failing to fight the muggy summer heat, with her legs in Oliver’s lap. 

"You could come back for Christmas break," he told her, his fingers circling her knee. "Or I could come see you. I could even take a trip out on Halloween. And Thanksgiving is day for sharing, so I’ll bring the turkey if your parents don’t mind me showing up randomly." He grinned over at her. "Then there’s New Year’s and Chinese New Year’s and Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day, and Easter…"

Felicity shook her head, helpless to a grin. “You realize a lot of those aren’t holidays. Like, I don’t think your school is going to give you Valentine’s Day off because you feel like it.” 

He shrugged. “So I’ll pull a Ferris Bueller and drive up to see you.”

"Drive?" she scoffed. "You know, that’s what started this whole thing. You and your questionable driving skills."

He snorted. “I had nothing to do with that flat tire.”

"Maybe not, but if you can’t change a tire, then I don’t know how comfortable I am with you road tripping out to see me…"

He skittered his fingers up her thigh, tugging lightly at the frayed edge of her shorts. “You could always meet me half-way.”

Felicity watched him a long moment, her head tipped back against the truck window. “You know, I wouldn’t blame you if this thing ended as soon as I was gone. Whirlwind summer romance or whatever. I’m not going to pull a Sandy and show up, Grease-style, to ruin your cred.”

He laughed, his head falling back. “Are you sure? Because I bet I’m a better singer than you think.”

"I’ve heard you sing. Trust me." She shook her head. " _Don’t_.”

He chuckled, not the least bit offended. Digging around in his pocket, he came up with a Sharpie, the same he’d found in the glove box and had been using to draw a clear path on a map from Starling City to Cambridge, Massachusettes. He tapped her ankle with it absently. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Smoak?”

Felicity shook her head. “No, I’m giving you an out… I  _literally_  live on the other side of the country. I’m saying I won’t be bitter if this doesn’t work out.”

He hummed, looking down at her sneakered feet in his lap. “What if I don’t want it to?”

She watched him for a moment, looking more serious than he had a moment ago. 

"I like you," he said, turning to look at her, a half-smile on his face. "I more than like you." 

Felicity felt her heart thud in her chest. ‘Cause, truth be told, even though she was giving him that out, she didn’t really want him to take it. As far as whirlwind romances went, she kind of hoped this  _kept_ going. But reality was a bitch and their lives were unfolding in completely different places. Not to mention, she was a sixteen year old genius hellbent on going to MIT that grew up with a single mom working two jobs, while he was a seventeen year old heir to a billion dollar company who failed tenth grade algebra and didn’t even know if he wanted to go to college…

 _But_ , in their own, they worked. He made her laugh and he never got uncomfortable when she rambled and sometimes when he smiled at her, she thought she could see cartoon hearts in his eyes. He was sweet and charming and definitely too good looking for his own good, which he totally knew, but that was okay. Arrogance wasn’t a fatal flaw, and he had to have some since she spent too much time counting all his lack of flaws. Of course, that could just be his chiseled face and ridiculously nice arms. She wasn’t perfect either. What person was? If he was arrogant about his looks or his wealth, she was arrogant about her smarts and her grades. Arrogance aside, maybe they were a good balance in some ways. A ying-yang of sorts. 

Whatever. They were young and on the edge of falling in love and who cared if she lived across the country and they were just caught up in how it felt in the moment? They were allowed to be, right? Maybe it wouldn’t last past the summer. Maybe she would never see him again. Maybe he’d just be a nice memory of when she was sixteen and fell for a cute boy.

Oliver plucked the cap of the sharpie with his teeth, and, on the white top of her sneaker, he wrote ‘forever.’ It felt like a promise, or maybe a hope, or something in between that resembled a future that neither of them expected. 

She returned home two weeks later, both happy to be back to what she knew and sad to leave behind someone different. 

Oliver showed up on her door step on Halloween dressed as Robin Hood. 

Forever might just be more possible than she expected.


	22. cake + suspenders + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **for** : [voubledision](http://www.voubledision.tumblr.com)  
>  **inspiration** : black forest cake and suspenders

Felicity walked into the room dancing, her hips shaking side to side in triumph as she crossed the bedroom, kicking her foot back to close the door as she went. Hair tied up in a lopsided bun on top of her head, a few strands fell free to brush her neck, encouraged by her dancing as she made her way to the bed. She waved a fork in one hand to the beat of a song only she could hear while the other held a small plate with a large slice of cake on it.

Oliver shook his head in amusement from where he stood in the bathroom doorway. He’d discarded his shoes, socks, and dress shirt for the day, wearing only his pressed pants, his suspenders hanging down at his sides. Tonight they’d hosted a fundraiser in the ballroom downstairs and it was an understatement to say he was very glad it was finally over. He was sure it was for a good cause, it always was, but he spent all day putting on the public mask expected of him and it just felt good to finally relax. It looked like Felicity was feeling the same. She’d traded in her satin gown, sky high heels, and expensive jewelry for pink pajama shorts covered in tiny, white ones and zeroes, and a muscle shirt he was pretty sure she stole from him, making it hang on her small figure.

Crawling into the center of their bed, she balanced her plate of cake on her stomach as she laid back against the pillows, tossing a few when she deemed them unnecessary cushion. She raised one knee, digging her toes into the blanket, while she tucked her other foot up under her butt. She told him the house was drafty, but she never put on extra clothes. Point in fact, he had a very nice view of her long legs from where he stood, leaning in the doorway, admiring from afar. While he’d long gotten used to how cold the manor could be, Felicity was still adjusting. If she wasn’t stealing one of his sweaters, she was making him wear one to hug her in until she deemed herself warm enough. At night, despite a fire in the grill, she usually wanted to cuddle, and, while it had taken some getting used to after the island had stripped him of the natural comfort he once had in sleeping next to someone, she’d effectively enlightened him to the benefits. Well, she enlightened him to a lot of things, actually.

Felicity sunk her fork into the black forest cake in front of her and happily slipped it into her mouth, moaning appreciatively, her eyes closing as she drew the fork free of her lips.

Oliver gave up on undressing and crossed the room, pulling his suspenders back up over his shoulders as he climbed onto the bed beside her. “You know that’s just a lot of empty sugar, right?”

Glaring at him, she scooped up a bigger bite and ate it in a sign of rebellion, licking the extra whip cream from her bottom lip. “Don’t insult the cake, Oliver.”

His mouth twitched while he shook his head. “Isn’t Digg making you jog with him?”

“Yes, which is why I deserve this cake.” She pointed her fork at him. “That man is a tyrant. He makes you and your training sessions look like playtime in kindergarten.”

He frowned. “I’m training you to stay alive. I hardly think I’m taking it easy on you.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “How about we don’t compare who’s the scarier trainer, okay? Let’s let Felicity eat her cake in peace. Since she’s going to have to run it all off tomorrow… until I cry and he eventually takes pity on my weak,  _weak_  body.”

He snorted. “You’re not weak.”

“I’m frail.” She poked one of his arms with her fork. “In comparison, anyway.”

He raised an eyebrow at the bit of cake and whip cream she left behind, but she was quick to fix that as she leaned over and gave his arm a lick before laying back against the pillows once more. “I could fake a stomach flu…” she said thoughtfully, tapping her mouth with her fork. “Or I could tell him we already worked out tonight so I should probably rest…” She smirked. “He always gets weird when I mention our sex life; it’ll buy me at  _least_ a day.”

“That sounds devious, Miss Smoak.” He stuck a finger into the top of her cake and stole a scoop of whip cream and chocolate shavings.

“Hey. You don’t get to eat the cake after you insult it.” She frowned at him, raising her hand to block him in case he tried again.

He licked his finger clean and watched her, his head balanced on his other hand as he laid on his side. “Is that your complete defense?”

She held her fork up. “Don’t make me use this.”

His lips twitched as he looked down at her, eyes thinning as if he were putting together an attack plan. “What if I came at it from a different angle?” he wondered, brow raising slowly.

“I would adapt.” She shrugged. “I do occasionally listen to you and Digg when you’re teaching me to fend off attackers.”

He pushed himself up and crawled across the bed, but instead of moving to her other side, he parted her legs and knelt between them, his hands resting on her knees, thumbs rubbing circles. “Now what?”

“That depends…”

“On?”

“Whether or not I want to defend myself or not.” She raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist, crossing them over his lower back and tugging him closer.

Oliver’s hands slid down the top of her thighs, fingers flicking just under her pajama shorts before his hands smoothed over the fabric and found her hips, squeezing lightly. He folded the end of the muscle shirt up her stomach, bunching it until it reached the plate with her half-eaten cake sitting on it. He dragged his knuckles over her stomach until he reached her ribs and flared his fingers out over them before sliding the tips of his fingers back down to the waist of her shorts once more.

“Is this a distraction technique?” she wondered rather breathlessly. “So you can swoop in and steal my cake?”

He chuckled, a low, deep rumble from his chest.

“Because I’m warning you now, I’m not against eating it all before you get a chance. I will cram every inch of this cake into my mouth and not flinch.”

“You know we have almost a whole cake still in the fridge, right?” He grinned at her. “And Raisa will happily make you cake anytime you want.”

She pouted her lips. “I want  _this_ cake.”

He shrugged. “I’m just here to help you with your attempt at avoiding Digg… Wouldn’t want you to lie to him about how hard I worked you…” He curled his fingers around the edges of her shorts and gave them a tug. When he raised his eyes up to meet hers, they were dark with suggestion.

She let out a sigh and licked her lips before stealing one, and then a second, bite of her cake before she put it on the end table. “Okay,” she said, licking her lips. “Defenses down, breach the firewall.”

He laughed, his head falling back in genuine humor.

Felicity reached for him, gripping the suspenders he knew she loved, and tugged him forward. He let her pull him on top of her, bracing his arms with his hands on the bed, pressed on either side of her head. She dragged a finger over the shoulder of his suspender. “Usually people wear shirts with these things…”

“I think I’m pulling it off without one.”

Her eyes dropped down to his chest in the same moment her teeth dug into her bottom lip with appreciation. “I think I need a close up view before I agree…”

He laughed under his breath before he ducked down for a kiss, licking the lingering bit of whip cream from her mouth as he did.

She buried a hand in his hair, dragging her nails down the nape of his neck as she met his slanting lips. “You’re not fooling me…” she said in between kisses. “You want the empty sugar…” She nipped his lower lip and looked up at him. “Admit it, I taste like cake…”

“You do taste sweeter than usual,” he admitted before he kissed down her neck to linger at her collar bone, scraping his teeth over her skin and sucking.

With a hum, she stretched her head back and slid her hand down to grip his suspender. “No complaints here.”

After that, Oliver was quick to strip her of her clothes, while Felicity was happier to leave his on,  _for once_. She just liked how those suspenders looked on him. And the cake ended up getting eaten, although she was pretty sure Oliver had more of it than she did, but since he was using her as his plate and preferred to just lick it off her instead of using a fork, she deemed it an equally enjoyed dessert.


	23. olicity + groundhog's day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity and groundhog’s day/time travel? - [itsalwaysfour](http://www.itsalwaysfour.tumblr.com)

It was the same. Every day was the same. He woke up to the same sound every morning; his sister singing that terrible Ke$ha song she loved so much. He rolled over, burying his head under his pillow, but he already knew what would happen.

The door swung open and Thea barreled inside, jumping onto his bed and, in the process,  _him_.

"All right, wake up Sleepy-Head, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us…" When he didn’t answer, she persisted, shaking his shoulders, and digging under the blanket to find his head. "Ooollieee… Olive _rrr_ …” She huffed. “C’mon, get up. I’ve gotta meet the girls in twenty, and you’ve got to pick up your tux in an hour.”

He closed his eyes, frowning to himself. 

"Seriously, if you’re getting cold feet, I will murder you in cold blood. Nobody would even blame me."

When she received no reply, she growled, and hopped off the bed. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when Diggle calls wondering why you missed your tux pick-up and if you’re having second thoughts about being Mister Felicity Smoak… ‘Cause that dude is like a big brother to her, and bodyguard or not, I think he might actually tear you a new one for leaving your blushing bride at the altar.”

As she walked off to the door, she gave her foot a frustrated stomp. “I’m not kidding, Oliver. You better not be pulling anything. I know it’s scary, your life changing like this, but we both know you love Felicity. I mean, she’s put up with five years of disappearing acts and spinning your weirdness to the press and mom in a positive light. You’re not gonna find anyone better. Plus, I’ve already decided she’s my sister-in-law, and I’m not taking it back. So grow a pair and do what you know you want to do… It’s your wedding day, for crapsakes, get excited.”

As the door shut behind her, he finally pushed the blanket down off his head and stared up at the ceiling of his room, reaching up to cover his eyes with a shaking hand. 

It wasn’t cold feet that had him staying in bed, because exactly 157 days ago, he’d lived this day for the first time, and he’d leapt out of bed with all the enthusiasm of a man who was happy and eager to get married. And six hours later, he was holding his beautiful, blonde, blushing bride… as her white dress turned red and his best man tackled the gunman who’d slipped into their wedding and shot Felicity before she could finish saying, “I do.”

He’d been aiming for Oliver; Felicity got in the way. 

And now he’d relived it, over and over again, 156 times. He’d done it differently; he’d tried taking Felicity away, tried telling her and Digg what happened, but nothing changed. At 1:03 pm, on June 14, 2019, Felicity Smoak died in Oliver Queen’s arms, one way or another. And he didn’t know how to stop it, or why he had to keep reliving it, but he did, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

 


	24. rolicity step!sibs au + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> au where roy and felicity are siblings? or step siblings? pleeeeeeease - **anonymous**

"Where’s my brother?" Felicity demanded. "You have no reason to keep him detained like this."

"Ma’am, I’ve already told you… Your brother was arrested for robbery and attempted assault—"

"That’s complete crap! Roy wouldn’t hurt anybody! I’m telling you, he might’ve stolen that purse, emphasis on ‘might’ but he wouldn’t  _hurt_  anybody. I mean, one time he punched Larry Davidson in the nose, but that kid was asking for it. You don’t just walk up to a stranger and plant one on them! You think I wanted my first kiss to be with that creepy little boy? Because I didn’t. And Roy made sure he knew that. I talked to him about it after and he’s never done anything violent since. I’d also like to point out that he was seven at the time, if you’re thinking about charging him with  _that,_ too.”

The front desk worker looked unimpressed, to say the least.

"I’m sorry, did you say Roy Harper was your brother?" a curious voice piped up. 

Felicity whirled around, brow furrowed, and found a petite brunette staring back at her, waves of curly hair falling down her shoulders. And she looked, well, there was no better for it than  _pissed_.

Raising an eyebrow, Felicity lifted her chin defensively and said, “Let me guess, the person he stole a purse from and then  _allegedly_ assaulted?”

Brows furrowed, the girl shook her head. “Wait, he didn’t assault me… I mean, surprised the crap out of me, sure, but he didn’t hurt me.”

"See!" Felicity slapped a hand down on the front desk. "I  _told_ you he wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Her eyes darted around. “Is there anybody around who could take this girl’s statement? I want that on record.”

"Anyway, the reason I came over was because he said he didn’t have any family…" The girl stared at her curiously. "Except for a mom addicted to Vertigo." She crossed her arms over her chest, beginning to look a whole lot pissier. 

Felicity let what she said register and then said, “He doesn’t! When I said sister I meant  _step_ , as in, not related by blood just really, really crappy circumstances… of the Vertigo induced, why me God, variety.”

Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. “Whatever. Look, I dropped the charges against him, so he should be released soon.”

"Oh." Felicity shifted her feet. "Well, thank you, I guess. And… Sorry. About the purse stealing thing." She winced. "I promise it’s not something he does a lot, it’s just… Times are really tough and I’m sure he thought you could afford it.  _Wait_ , that’s not what I meant. Not that rich people should be like, mass robbed or whatever. I mean, there’s currently a modern-day Robin Hood running around kind of doing that, so don’t think I’m endorsing him. I’m just saying, Roy doesn’t steal from everyone, and he won’t be making a habit of it. He just…” She groaned, blowing out a sigh and covering her face. “I’m sorry, it’s just all we have at home right now is string cheese. You know, that really disgusting stuff that comes out of a can and is like, one molecule away from being plastic? My check from work bounced and I’m already behind on paying the rent and trying to afford community college, which, I mean, okay, that is a whole other bag of cats.” 

"Wow, whoa, slow down…" The girl reached for her, a hand tentatively finding Felicity’s elbow. "Listen, whatever’s happening, it’s not my business. I mean, yes, your brother totally jacked my purse, which I’d really like back, actually. But all of this other stuff… I mean, you don’t technically owe me an explanation.  _He_ does. But I guess that whole sob story about his mother was… true?”

Felicity frowned. “Yeah, well, I mean, Vertigo is kind of her latest drug of choice. She’s been on and off a few other things for as long as I can remember… I guess that was partly my dad’s fault. They didn’t meet under the best circumstances and my dad had a way of bringing down everybody with him, so… Probably a good thing he ditched when I was thirteen. Well, timing could’ve been better, it was actually four days before my thirteenth birthday. Hah,  _surprise_ , dad’s gone.” Closing her eyes, she counted back from three. “Sorry, I’m doing it again. You didn’t want the sob story and I just keep rambling on about—”

“ _Thea!_ " a harried voice called. 

Together, the both of them turned as a tall, handsome, incredibly worried, and angry, looking man approached them. “Are you okay? Laurel called, she said you were assaulted.”

Felicity pursed her lips. “Robbed, actually. There was no assault. I really wish somebody would write that down.” 

Thea glanced at her, slightly amused. “Hey, Ollie, yeah, no, no assault. Just had my purse stolen while me and Laurel were in the Glades.”

"What were you even doing out there? Do you know how dangerous it is?" he wondered, frowning down at her. "And what happened? She said something about you dropping the charges?"

"It’s a long story…" Thea rolled her eyes. "Look, I just… I’m tired and this whole thing has been crazy, so, can we go? Please? I think I’ve seen enough of the police for, well, the rest of my life." 

"Not until you explain why the guy who robbed you isn’t being charged," he pushed. "He should be rotting in a jail cell, not walking free."

"I take offense to that," Felicity piped up. 

"Ollie" turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. "I’m sorry. Who are you?"

"I’m the alleged assaulter’s sister. His very protective, very concerned older sister who will be dealing with him just as soon as he’s out of custody. I get that you’re worried about your sister, and I completely understand why, but Roy isn’t a bad kid. He’s made some questionable choices, yes — you don’t even want to hear about his younger years, when he’d eat anything that fell on the floor — but he’s still a good person. And I know that he made a really bad decision here and probably scared your sister, but it’s not exactly rainbows and butterflies where we grew up, so excuse me if he hasn’t had the best influences." 

The man glowered down at her, seeming to use his height advantage to loom. “Your brother  _robbed_ someone. That’s not a victimless crime. Maybe we wouldn’t be having this problem if he’d stolen food to feed his starving family, but chasing down an innocent person and ripping their purse out of their hands isn’t exactly the same thing.”

Felicity put her hands on her hips and stepped up into his space, forcing him to take a step back in surprise. “I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like growing up with two drug addicted parents who never remember to put food on the table or pay their bills on time. I also don’t expect you to understand how hard its been for the people who have to  _live_ in the Glades, especially since  _your father_ is the one who shut down the only viable place for a person to get a good job with benefits and a pension. But just because you have one little scare due to the big, bad Glades and the  _awful, terrible_ children living there does  _not_  mean you get to crucify my brother for trying to survive.” She stared up at him searchingly, a muscle ticking in her cheek. “If you’ll excuse me,  _Mr. Queen_ , I have to pick up my brother and then get to my job with awful pay to make sure we don’t just eat  _string cheese_ for dinner.  _Again_.” With that, she stormed past him and in no particular direction, because she had no idea where the hell she was going and apparently dramatic exits were harder than she thought. 

Still, she managed to find a bathroom to hide out in until she was sure the Queens - and God, did she just yell at one of them? She hadn’t recognized the youngest Queen heir, but it was hard not to remember Oliver Queen’s smug face when it was plastered all over every TV screen lately - had left. 

Just to be sure, she stuck around another ten minutes before eventually walking out to see if Roy had been released yet.

"You’re in luck, lady, he’s coming out now," the front desk person said. 

Seconds later, she was staring at an abashed but still rebellious Roy Harper while she tapped her foot on the floor. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to rant and rave and tell him all the ways that what he was doing was an awful attempt at trying to make it in the world. But, well, she was half the reason he was still in this world, wasn’t she?

Shoulders slumping, she shook her head, defeated. “Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s go home.”

He walked toward her with his head down, looking like the eleven year old boy she watched the cops take away from her when she was eighteen and struggling to get through her freshman year at MIT. He was taller than her now, though, not by much, and not when she was in heels.

It was a few minutes before they said anything, walking down the sidewalk toward a bus stop she knew would get them back home.

He bumped her shoulder with his as they walked. 

"Sorry," he muttered. 

"Are you apologizing to the sidewalk, or me?" she wondered. 

His jaw ticked. “I didn’t disappoint the sidewalk.”

Felicity sighed, long and hard. “Roy, you’re not a disappointment, all right? I… I mean, if I’d just stayed in MIT, maybe things would be different. Maybe I’d have a good job and I could afford an apartment somewhere better, and then you wouldn’t have to do these things.”

He rolled his eyes. “You say that like you even had a choice. If you remember correctly, mom woke up from her latest drug binge and finally noticed I wasn’t there. A  _year_  after you took me with you to MIT! It’s her fault they took away your scholarship. I mean, you didn’t even really kidnap me. I  _wanted_ to go with you.”

Felicity frowned. “She did drop the charges.”

"Yeah, a little too late…" He shook his head. "I guilted you into taking me with you anyway. If you went alone, at least  _you_  would’a got away.”

"I wasn’t going to leave you here. It wasn’t safe. You didn’t deserve four years of that on your own."

He half-smiled down at her. “My hero. Always trying to watch out for me.”

Felicity grinned up at him. “And I always will.”

"You’re such a sap." He threw an arm around her and hugged her close.

Felicity rested her head on his shoulder. “Just… don’t rob anyone anymore, okay?” She looked up at him beseechingly. “You couldn’t pick a smaller target than Thea Queen,  _really?_ ”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know who she was. I just saw a designer bag and heels and took a chance.”

Scoffing, she shoved his shoulder until he let go. He merely chuckled as he stepped back. 

"Roy, there are better ways…"

"Yeah, but not easier ones. Look, you and me both know, getting out of the Glades isn’t easy, and everything is working against us." He shook his head. "I know it sucks, but we need food, and we have to pay for that shitty trailer somehow…" 

Felicity pursed her lips. “I talked to Jonah. He said he’d issue me a new check. There was just some glitch or something.”

"Yeah, the glitch is that he spent all his money at the track and can’t afford to pay his staff." Disgusted, he kicked a rock off the sidewalk. "This is stupid. Felicity, you’re a genius.  _Literally_. You should be working in some big company, making good money, not wasting away here.”

"Hey!" She grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her. "Don’t you ever say that like you don’t deserve it, too. The whole reason I took you with me to MIT, even if hiding you under my bed and guilt-tripping my roommate into not telling anybody about you was a terrible plan, was because I wanted you to have a better life. And I couldn’t give you that until I finished college and found a way to support both of us." She stared at him searchingly. "We’re doing this together. When I get out, so do you. Just as long as you don’t get yourself caught stealing from the rich again. We’ve got one Robin Hood too many around here." She screwed up her nose. "Archery. It looks totally ridiculous, if you ask me." 

Roy frowned, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “He’s just doing what the rest of us wish we could, making them pay for what they’ve done.” 

Not appreciating his dark tone, Felicity squeezed his forearm. “Hey, you can’t let yourself get caught up in that headspace, all right? It’s not good for you.”

He half-smiled down at her. “You’re too damn good, you know that? How the hell you managed to stay so innocent around here, I’ll never know.”

"Yeah, well, maybe I see something better for our future than just this. And it keeps me happy. Keeps me  _sane_ …” She smiled up at him. “It’s not all bad, is it? You still have me.” 

Despite himself, his mouth curled up at the corners. “Yeah, well, I’ve always had you.” 

"See? Something to smile about."

"Sap," he muttered again.

But Felicity just grinned.

As much as today had been, well,  _bad_ , to say the least, her brother had managed to get out of trouble, and that was really all that mattered to her. Sure, he technically robbed someone, and don’t think for a second she wouldn’t be making him pay for that mistake. But, in the end, she’d do anything to protect him. Anything to keep him from becoming one of the many screwed up kids joining gangs out in the Glades. He had a good heart. And she would make sure it stayed that way.

 

[ **[NOW A MULTI-CHAPTER PIECE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1306024/chapters/2712970)**.]


	25. casino + ocean's eleven au + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> olicity + casino + ocean's eleven - **anonymous**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **polyvore** : [outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=114568308)

“We’ve got your Lady in Red on camera 4,” Digg’s deep voice reached through the Bluetooth to his ear.

Oliver ground his teeth. “How does she keep getting in?”

“No idea. I’ve checked my guys; they’re clean. Nobody’s sneaking her in the back.”

Leaning back in his black, leather chair, Oliver picked at his thumb, a tick of his when he was agitated. “How much is she up?”

“Fifteen grand and climbing.”

Rubbing a hand down his face, Oliver sighed. “Get her out.”

“With or without her chips?”

He frowned. “Pay her and kick her out. Make sure she knows she’s not welcome.”

“Right,” Digg scoffed. “Because the last three times I told her didn’t sink in.”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver shook his head. “Just do it. Let me know if there’s trouble.”

“Copy.”

Turning back around to his desk, Oliver tried, and failed, to focus on the work in front of him.

Verdant Casino was his pride and joy. He’d spent the last ten years of his life building it up from nothing, bringing in whales with little more than a smile and a promise that Queens only served the best. His father was a businessman, and he’d taught Oliver every trick of the trade. Turning those tricks into profit took a lot more hard work that it might seem at first. He sometimes wondered if Robert Queen didn’t have a better idea when he bankrupted his own company and every employee working for him, skipped off to a country he couldn’t be extradited from, and waved farewell to anything that resembled responsibility, including his wife and children.

Moira had remarried; she was happier now with Walter. Oliver, on the other hand, wasn’t sure he ever forgave his father for his disappearing act or the giant fuck you he left in bad press. Rebuilding his family name had taken a lot of time and energy, but he’d done it. And now the name ‘Queen’ was synonymous with luxury and success. Verdant was the most extravagant casino in all of Starling City, sitting on a strip where three others tried, and failed, to stand tall in its shadow. They boasted a nightclub that could stand comfortably on its own, a five-star restaurant, an entertainment theater with a new act each month, the largest pool in the state, twenty-three floors of accommodations, a spa, and every possible way to gamble imaginable.

Security was top notch; it had to be in a place like this. Oliver had hired on John Diggle personally, and, from there, left security in his capable hands. Digg formed his own team of only the most trusted employees, many of whom were retired armed forces looking for a steady gig. Which was why this issue with the pretty blonde in the red dress was baffling him. Every few weeks, she would pop up again, always at the poker table and always in a new red dress. Somehow, she not only evaded security but managed to play the tables so far into her advantage that Oliver was feeling the dent to his pocket. They caught her early this time; fifteen-grand was chump change, but it was more than he wanted to hand out. Despite numerous attempts at figuring out who she was, from fingerprints to facial recognition to simply checking her ID, his Lady in Red always evaded being identified. As soon as they went looking for her, the computers redirected them or shut down or just plain froze up. Every time they caught her, she had a new ID on hand, usually with the popular name of some character from television.

She was smart, and cunning, and driving him absolutely crazy.

Digg soon interrupted his musings once more. “Oliver, we’ve got a problem.”

Sitting forward in his seat, he frowned. “What is it?”

The last time he’d heard this level of exasperation coming from John, Tommy had somehow let a Bengal tiger loose in the theater. Oh, he’d promised it was harmless, but the panicked, awkward laugh he gave after said very different.

“We lost your girl. She slipped out while we were still processing her money.”

“ _What?_ ”

He let out a huff of a breath. “I made the mistake of leaving her with Harper. I guess Thea spotted him, one thing led to another, and Red slipped out on us.”

Closing his eyes, he shook his head. “Is she still on the property?”

“Not sure. We’re canvasing now,” he answered. “Gotta admit though, I’m a little confused. Why would she leave without the money?”

“Good question. A+ for effort,” a feminine voice piped up cheerfully.

Oliver’s head raised abruptly, his eyes settling on a pretty blonde standing in his office, admiring a wall of pictures of his friends and family.

“I think this one’s my favorite,” she said, pointing at one with him and Thea, his arm wrapped around his sister’s neck as he gave her a noogie and grinned for the camera. “You’re much more handsome when you smile. Well, not that you aren’t already handsome, because you are, not that I’m hitting on you. Hello, awkward. You think I’m stealing from your casino, so wow, talk about bad timing for hitting on someone, right? I mean, who would even fall for that? That’s like, some Black Widow level action.” She shrugged. “Well, I mean, without the getting married, killing you, and  _then_ draining your bank accounts. So much easier just to go to the source and leave out the bloodshed and marriage contracts, am I right?”

Oliver blinked at her.

“ _Oliver!_  Hang tight! I got guys on their way, all right? Keep her talking. Stay calm,” Digg shouted into his ear.

“You can call off your bulldog. I’m not here to hurt you.” She held her hands up in surrender. “Honest.”

Just then, they heard banging near the door, but it didn’t budge.

She glanced over and half-smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. I overrode your system and, well, since Mr. Diggle made sure your office was pretty much impossible to break into, they’re gonna have a tough time trying to get past it.  _Whoops_.”

Slowly standing from his desk, he pressed his fingers down hard on the top and leaned forward. “What do you want?” he demanded, his voice falling into a deep, warning growl.

Moving toward him, she didn’t so much as flinch at his tone. The closer she got, the better he could make her out. He thought she’d been pretty on the high-def cameras, but… That was an understatement.

She had her hair pulled to one side, curled as it reached down her front, flowing over her shoulder. A triangular, diamond earring danced as she moved, drawing his eye before it diverted to her mouth, a bright, popping red. “A better question is ‘what can you do for me?’ You being ‘I’, as in, well,  _me_.” She turned her eyes up, muttered her words back to herself, and then waved a dismissive hand. “The point is, I’m not here because I want something, I’m here because  _you_  need something.” She stomped a foot. “Rats. That sounded less like a come-on in my head. Okay, let me try again.”

Oliver sighed, raising an eyebrow. “ _Explain_.”

“Fine. You know ‘Viper’? The casino down the strip? About half as busy as you and desperately trying to poach your clientele?”

He nodded shortly.

“Right, well, they might be a  _little_  more desperate than usual since they were recently robbed.”

His brow furrowed. “Robbed? I didn’t hear anything about a robbery.”

“Of course not. They don’t know it’s happened yet.”

Oliver stared at her a long moment and then reached for his phone.

“If you’re about to call the police, go ahead— tell Lance I say ‘hi!’— but that’s not going to stop you from being the next one scratching your head when you find every dime missing from your safe.”

Hesitating as he held the phone up to his ear, he took a moment before placing it back in the cradle. “All right, Miss…?”

Grinning then, she thrust a hand out to him, wiggling her fingers when he didn’t take it right away. Silver nail polish with little black, red, and white spots stared back at him. Slowly, he reached up and took her hand, much daintier and softer than his own. She gave it a quick, hard pump, and told him, “My name is Felicity Smoak, and I can help you keep from getting robbed.”

He kept hold of her hand a moment longer than necessary. “ _How?_ ”

Humming, she turned on her heel to walk away, admiring his office. His gaze briefly fell, taking in the tight confines of her red dress, and just what amazing things it did to showcase her ass. Clearing his throat, his eyes raised to meet hers. The flush on her cheeks told him she’d noticed his wandering gaze, but she didn’t call him on it (yet), instead turning back to face him fully. “You’re missing all the fun questions like, ‘why?’ and ‘when?’ and ‘who?’” she told him, tipping her head as she peered at him curiously. “But I guess that’s the fun part. Anticipation never killed anybody.”

“A lack of patience might,” he muttered under his breath.

“It’s really very easy…” She walked toward him, her strides much longer now, and he admired the length of her legs. “For someone about to lose billions of dollars, you seem a lot more interested in checking me out than you should be.”

“I disagree. You’ve managed to skirt my security the last five months. You’ve walked out of here with more money than I’d like to think about. And now you’ve breached my office and are telling me I’m going to be robbed… If anything, I should be a lot more interested in who you are, Miss. Smoak.”

“Felicity’s fine, and I think we both know that your interest is less about my abilities and more about my assets.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’d take it as a compliment, but you’re a pretty familiar face in the tabloids, so I’ll just focus enough for both of us.” Hands on her hips, she told him, “Half your problem is that your security is relying on old tech. That means your system is a lot easier to hack into than it should be. It wasn’t hard to get into and rework a few things to my advantage, and I wasn’t even trying. The people currently going Ocean’s Eleven on the local casinos are  _really_ trying, which means that they’re going to get in here, bleed you dry, and get out before Mr. Diggle even finishes his 4 o’clock coffee break.”

He frowned, raising his shoulders in a shrug. “So I’ll update my system. Problem solved.”

She scoffed. “Updating your system is just the first step. They’ll find another way in and then, copy and paste, everything I just said will still happen.”

Frustrated, he glowered at her. “You’re giving me a lot of problems and not a lot of solutions,  _Felicity_.”

“Now you’re getting somewhere.” She shot a finger gun at him and winked. “You only need one, easy solution.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And that is?”

He’d be lying if he said her smile wasn’t intoxicating.

Raising her chin rather proudly, she answered, “ _Me_.”


	26. felicity/stranger kiss + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Oliver catches felicity kissing someone in the QC elevator - **anonymous**

When the elevator doors finally open, finding Felicity kissing a strange man was _not_ what he was expecting.

Lifted up on the tips of her toes, she had her arms wrapped around the head of a blonde man, her front plastered to his as she slanted her mouth, quickly and firmly, over his.

Clearing his throat, Oliver glared at the shocked man, mouth still puckered, ringed with bright pink lipstick. Upon seeing Oliver, his eyes shot wide and he yanked his hands back from Felicity’s hips, holding them up in a sign of surrender. “I—I don’t—I didn’t—She just—“

“Oh, Oliver, thank Google!” Felicity said, breathlessly, leaving the elevator to throw her arms around him in a hug.

Surprised, his arm slung around her waist, squeezing her.

“I thought, for a second there, that you’d be scooping a Smoak pancake out of the elevator shaft. Seriously, it just stopped, _no warning_. I mean, do you have any idea how terrifying that is?” She stepped back, patting a hand against her heart. “I know I’ve swung across an elevator shaft before, but that was different. I mean, I knew you wouldn’t let go. Here, I just thought the wires would snap and then, _pfft_ , nothing. Thirty-seven floors of me shaking like a Chihuahua, peeing on the floor, wondering who wound water my already neglected plants.” She was hyperventilating at this point, bent forward with her forehead on his chest. “By the way, this is Chester, he was delivering something to you. I might’ve scared the crap out of him.” She waved a hand vaguely back at the man in the elevator.

“I’m not sure ‘scared’ was what he was when you were kissing him,” Oliver muttered, frowning at the man now gathering up scattered papers from the floor of the elevator.

“I thought I was going to _die_ , Oliver.”

“Was it one last kiss before you died, or a ‘thank-god-we-actually-survived-the-five-minutes-the-elevator-stopped-working’ kiss?” Oliver picked at this thumb with his forefinger, wound up and incredibly agitated.

Felicity raised her head, squinting at him a moment. “Five minutes? It felt like _hours_!”

Oliver sighed, staring down at her, and finally shook his head, a half-smile playing at his lips. He cupped her face, tenderness flooding him when she leaned further into his right palm. “You know, five minutes or not, I was ready to climb in through the top and get you out.”

She grinned up at him. “Yeah?”

He nodded.

Smoothing a hand over the lapel of his jacket, she said, “I know. That’s why I was stabbing the emergency button so much. I told Chester that you and Digg would get us out, but he didn’t seem to believe me.”

“Digg was talking to the guys downstairs. They were already fixing it, but he stuck around to make sure it got done. He’ll be happy to know you made it out alive, and with a new _friend_ , too.”

Felicity looked over at her shoulder at the uncomfortably waiting man – _Chester_ – who was now holding out the papers, his arm stretched as far as it would go so he didn’t have to step closer.

“Oh, thank you, Chester.” Felicity took the papers from his hand and smiled. “Nice meeting you, even if the circumstances were less than awesome.” She raised a hand to wave at him before turning on her heel to walk away, back toward her desk, far more cheerful than she’d been before.

Oliver glanced at her as she left and then turned back to Chester, eyes narrowed. Chester didn’t appear to be worried about the elevator suddenly having another problem, because he was stabbing at the button to his floor, trying to get as far away from the angry face of Oliver Queen as he could get.

Turning on his heel, Oliver followed after Felicity, who was humming to herself as she shuffled through some papers, getting them in order.

“Felicity?”

“Hm?” she said, raising her head and hugging the stack of papers to his chest. “Yes?”

“Are we going to talk about how you kissed a complete stranger in the elevator?” he wondered, brows hiked.

Felicity frowned. “Why?”

He blinked. “Sorry?”

“Why does it matter if I kissed a stranger in the elevator? Or anybody in the elevator? Or anybody anywhere?” She shrugged, moving the papers to her hip and making her way to his office, pulling open the glass door. “We’re falling behind schedule and you’ve got a meeting in—“

Oliver cut her off with a huff just before his mouth slanted over hers.

Letting out a hum of surprise, her hand left the door and slid up to his face, fingers scrubbing over his scruffy cheek. A few seconds passed with Oliver sucking on her bottom lip; his teeth scraped over it and his tongue followed soothingly. He pressed against her until her back was flat against the wall, the papers slipping from her grip. When he drew back, pressing a few lingering pecks to her lips, he rested his forehead against hers and stared at her mouth as she licked her lips.

“Was that a ‘really-glad-you-survived-that-elevator-scare’ kiss, or an ‘I-didn’t-like-that-somebody-else-kissed-you-and-this-is-me-marking-my-territory-kiss’? Because one of those is not the right answer...”

“The first one, mostly.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

“I won’t lie. I didn’t like that you kissed him. But you don’t owe me anything, Felicity, I know that.  And it’s my own fault for taking so long to do anything about us anyway.”

“Us?”

He smiled faintly and nodded. “Us.”

“Well… This might be my favorite near-death-experience yet,” she admitted, grinning.

He chuckled lowly. “I’m not sure you were ever near-death…”

“I _felt_ like I was,” she reminded. “So it counts.”

Shaking his head, he bent to kiss her again. Fine, he’d give her the near-death thing. Whatever she wanted to call it, all that mattered was that it brought them together.


	27. felicity/flirting + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olicity + Bruce flirting with Felicity please! - **anonymous**

Roy frowned, watching as Felicity tossed her head back, laughing warmly at something Bruce Wayne had said to her, his fingers lightly grazing down her forearm. For most of the night, Wayne had avoided mingling with many of the other guests at the Queen-hosted event, instead seeming to spend the majority of his time flirting with Felicity. Roy couldn’t count on both hands how many times Wayne had leaned in to say something against her ear. Did the guy have an issue with personal space? Or talking above a whisper? 

Felicity was laughing again, slapping Wayne on the chest, who took a step back like the light tap she’d given him was harder than it was. He was grinning down at her like the sun shone out of her ass, which, actually, wasn’t an uncommon look. Roy was well-acquainted with it since that was Oliver’s default expression whenever he was around Felicity. And, even if Roy rolled his eyes when Oliver did it, this was different. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he tapped his foot, wondering if maybe he should step in. Did Felicity just not  _realize_ this guy was hitting on her, or what? Aside from greeting a few investors when they passed by her, she’d willingly stuck around Wayne for the last two hours, letting him compliment her and touch her arm or her cheek and admire her earrings, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. There were way too many boundaries being pushed here. 

He cast his eyes around, searching for Oliver, only to flinch when the man in question suddenly appeared at his side, fiddling with one of his cuff links and frowning down at it.

"You’re fidgeting," Oliver informed him casually. "It’s distracting."

Roy glanced at him and then raised an eyebrow, nodding his head toward Felicity and Wayne. “Are you going to do something about that?”

"About what?" 

Roy snorted. “About the billionaire hitting on your wife.” 

Oliver blinked at him and then looked over at Felicity, who was waving her arms around as she went off on a tangent, while Wayne grinned at her, nodding along. “ _Should_  I do something?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Bruce Wayne, who probably has way more money and way less damage than you, is  _literally_  charming the pants off your wife. Yeah, you should probably do something.” 

"Felicity’s her own person. If she didn’t like him, she’d let me know. We have a signal for that." He shrugged. "They’re actually good friends. They met through Lucius Fox, a mentor of hers a while back." 

"Are you missing the part about the flirting? He’s literally been hitting on her for two hours straight." 

Oliver’s mouth twitched. “Roy, do you have any idea how many people hit on my wife?” His brow raised. “If I got upset every time someone clued in to the fact that Felicity is as smart as she is gorgeous, I’d have an early heart attack from the stress.”

Roy frowned, staring at him disbelievingly. “So, you’re not worried?”

"Just because they’re flirting with her doesn’t mean she’s flirting back." He shrugged. "Besides, Wayne would like it if I reacted." He smoothed out the sleeve of his shirt and said. "Two hours?" 

Roy nodded. “Yeah, non stop.”

"Hm." Oliver gave his arm a pat and then walked away, stepping up to Felicity and Wayne. He grinned his CEO grin and reached out to shake Wayne’s hand, his arm slung low on Felicity’s waist, hand squeezing her hip. 

Roy watched curiously as Oliver turned and said something against Felicity’s ear. She blushed a pretty pink and then, suddenly, started stuttering something before reaching up to give Wayne a kiss on the cheek goodbye. Flushed, she took Oliver’s hand and started towing him toward the door then. 

Smirking, Oliver looked over and winked at Roy before catching his wife around the waist and following her out. 

Roy snorted. What Wayne couldn’t accomplish in two hours Oliver had in less than a minute. Maybe the guy had a point. 


	28. "the end" + olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> five sentence fic prompt: the end - **anonymous**

They were married fifty-four years when Felicity died in her sleep, not a wound or enemy in sight, and not once, in all their time together, did the love and partnership they shared fade.

He followed her six days later; it was a Wednesday.

In those fifty+ years, Oliver slowly put together his personal memoirs, only published after his death and carefully devoid of anything Hood/Arrow related, more for the safety of his family and those who took over in his stead than anything.

The last line read, quite simply:  _My life will begin and end with her, and it will be made of all the happiness I ever wanted._

He was right.


	29. mortal/immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> olicity ➸ immortal and non-immortal AU - **anonymous**

John sighed, pausing at Oliver’s side, his hands clasped in front of him. “You know this can only end in tragedy…” 

Oliver glanced at him briefly before casting his eyes past him to where Felicity was dancing with one of her nieces, their hands twined as they spun around the dance floor. 

"There’s no such thing as tragedy at weddings," he answered, clapping his best man’s shoulder. "Try being happy for a change, Diggle. You were the one who introduced us." 

"I didn’t think you’d fall in love with her… Or  _marry_ her." He shook his head. “Oliver, you will live  _forever_ … Her life is a blip, a  _blink_ compared to yours.”

Oliver ground his teeth a moment, staring at his wife, at the way her blonde curls swung at her back and her lips stretched in a smile so full of love and hope and kindness that his heart swelled up in his chest and threatened to leap into his throat to choke him. He’d never loved anyone or anything as much as he did her. 

A mortal.

His father would have laughed at him. 

There were others of his kind, others who wouldn’t die long before he wanted them to, who wouldn’t fade out of existence and take everything good with them. But he didn’t love them, he didn’t want them. Who he wanted, the only one he wanted, was Felicity. 

"Then I’ll keep my eyes open." He turned to John, a faithful and loyal friend and guardian for as long as Oliver had been alive. Which was already far too long for his liking, though he’d changed his mind when Felicity Smoak offered to help him figure out how to work his latte soaked laptop. It seemed that, even with his experience in the world, watching technology grow and change, he was not as adept with computers as he could be, and she was far more adept than most. It was one in many ways that she was the yin to his yang. 

"Do you remember what you told me once? That when I met the right person, I’d be ready for her…"

John nodded, short and simple. 

"Well, I’m ready. It’s taken a long time and it’s not ideal… If I could give her my life, my ability to live forever, I would, in a  _second_. I would give her  _everything_ …” He stared up at him meaningfully. “But I can’t. And if you think I don’t know what that means, that I don’t know that I’ll have to watch her age and die and leave me behind, then you’re wrong. I live with that every day. I wake up knowing that one day, I’ll turn over and she won’t be there. And that day might be tomorrow or fifty years from now, I don’t know. What I do know is that I love her. I’ll  _always_  love her. And if I have to lose her, then I’ll have her for as long as I can.” 

John stared back at him a long moment before finally lowering his chin. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt; either of you.” 

"I know." He half-smiled. "And I appreciate you for it. But today is my wedding day, Diggle. So smile, all right? I just became the luckiest man alive." 

Before John could reply, Felicity hurried over to them, her wedding gown sweeping over the floor. She reached for Oliver’s hand, their fingers slotting together. “Come on, I think I’ve had my toes stepped on by everyone but my husband…” 

Oliver grinned down at her, leaning across to kiss her forehead before he let her drag him out onto the floor. And, despite how worried he’d been, John smiled after them, even if sorrow clouded the edges of it. 

He watched as they moved together on the dance floor, the rest of the world, their guests, everything seeming to melt away, leaving them with only each other.

Oliver murmured softly to her in between pressing short, sweet kisses to her lips, and Felicity smiled, staring up at him with the same immeasurable adoration as he looked at her with. They danced together, song after song, until the floor emptied of tired guests. Oliver’s chin rested on Felicity’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her, hands sweeping up and down her back. And it was clear, even if he had never said a word, that his love for his wife was unending. The comfort Oliver had always looked for, the companion to share his life with, had finally been found. 

John stood apart from them, forever watching, knowing that they would do this dance for the rest of Felicity’s life. Until, one day, her mortal body would make dancing too difficult for her frail composition. And Oliver, never aging, never growing weak, would stand by her side, holding her liver-spotted hand, with her aged wedding band sitting prettily on her finger, as her grip loosened and her eyes grew hazy. He would stay by her side until she breathed her last breath through tired lips he’d kissed a million times before. Because, as much as weddings may not have any tragedy, life did. And such as it was for the immortal who loved a mortal.


	30. adopt a runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pseudo-adopting-the-runaway-i-ran-into AU + olicity - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

When she heard the door open, she knew it was him, proven by the clang of his keys hitting the bowl near the door. Standing in the kitchen, she flipped through the various menus she’d dug out of their ‘dinner’ drawer. They didn’t exactly have time to cook anything these days and, well, neither of them were all that good at cooking to begin with. So take-out drawer it was. 

"So, I’m thinking Chinese for dinner," she yelled to him in greeting. "I’ve been craving egg rolls. What do you think?"

"Sounds good, but, uh, make it for three," he answered, seconds before he stepped into the kitchen to join her. 

Felicity already had the phone in hand and was mid-dial to their favorite Chinese place when she frowned. “Three? I know you think I hog the chow mein, but that’s because you always eat all the fried rice. Sharing is caring, Oliv—” She stopped abruptly when she looked up to find a boy standing just feet away from Oliver, his head ducked down and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his red hoodie. “Oh, um…” She glanced at Oliver and then back to the boy. 

He wasn’t much taller than her, slim and a little nervous looking. Young, but not so much boy as verging on man. She’d guestimate late teens, but then, looks could be decieving. 

"This is Roy Harper," Oliver said as he walked further into the kitchen, circling the island to stand next to her. His hand fell to her hip, squeezing, and he leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth, as he often did when he’d done something he knew he’d have to explain and apologize for. It was a tell of his, much like how kissing the top of her head meant he missed her, her forehead meant he was tired, and her temple meant he wasn’t in a good mood and needed space but didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d long ago learned her husband’s physical cues when words often failed him. Twelve years of friendship, six of which were spent dating, and four of them being married had built a strong foundation. But that didn’t explain the teenager in her kitchen. 

"Hi Roy…" she said slowly. "I’m Felicity."

"Boss-man mentioned that on the ride over." 

"Oh? Did he? And where was the ride over  _from_ , exactly? Because  _'boss-man'_ didn’t mention to his wife -his very awesome, very forgiving, very understanding wife- that he was bringing home a guest…”

Oliver sighed beside her, pursing his lips in that way that said he knew he’d messed up, but he didn’t like being told he did. Well,  _tough beans_ , she decided. 

"Roy is from the Glades. He ran into some… trouble, and I offered to help him out." 

Felicity’s eyes narrowed a moment before she looked up at him. “Trouble as in…”

Sighing, Roy shifted his feet and blurted out, “He caught me trying to steal his car.” 

She blinked at him; once, twice, a third time, and then— “Oliver, can I see you in the office?” 

He winced, but nodded. 

"Look, I can leave," Roy offered, looking between them nervously. "You said you wouldn’t call the cops if I came with you. The only reason I didn’t was because you weren’t giving off some creepy pedo vibe. But you don’t owe me anything, all right? Not dinner.  _Nothing_.” He snorted, gritting his teeth and shaking his head. “I don’t need your rich man guilt, okay? Yeah, I tried to steal your car, and yeah, it was probably a shitty thing to do, but I’m just trying to survive, all right? So save the pity and the hero complex for somebody else.”  

Felicity paused, staring at him a long moment. And then she took a few steps forward, staring at Roy head on and rubbing her hands together. “So… do you like egg rolls?” 

He frowned at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that some weird innuendo? ‘Cause you’re hot, but I don’t think the big guy’s the sharing type.” 

"What?  _No_. Chinese food. I’m offering you dinner. I know you just said you didn’t want any, especially with a side of pity, but this isn’t that. I mean, a side of plum sauce, maybe, but not pity…” She shrugged. “Look, you don’t have to trust me or even like me, and you can chalk this up to a hero complex if you want, but… You remind me of someone and we always have leftover food anyway, so why not stick around and have some, all right?” Her brows hiked high. “And after, you can leave, if you want. If not, we can have the guest room set up… Well, as long as Oliver doesn’t mind moving all my extra computer parts out of there. I’d offer, but, well, no, I have a husband who spends a lot of time at the gym, so he can use those pretty muscles for something useful for once. Especially if he plans on bringing home strays on take-out night.” 

Oliver’s amused chuckle brushed her ear as he stepped up behind her. “Every night’s take-out night.” 

"Yeah, well, you can’t argue with good food." She leaned back against his chest as his hands fell to her hips and squeezed. "So? What do you say, Roy? Egg rolls for three?" 

He stared at her a long moment, looking skeptical and not a little suspicious, but then he glanced at Oliver and back to her and, finally, with a sigh, he said, “ _Whatever_.” 

Which, despite not having been a teenager for quite some time, she knew was as good as an agreement. Taking up her phone once more, she dialed, calling in an order for three.

Felicity didn’t know how long Roy would be sticking around or if this was just a one-off thing, but she did know that her husband had a softer heart than he liked to think and, well… Roy reminded her a bit of the surly boy she’d met in high school. The son of a billionaire with a chip on his shoulder too heavy to carry on his own. Oliver had grown up a lot since then and now it looked like he wanted to help someone else through that transition. 

Of course, good deeds didn’t always pay off and, for all she knew, Roy would turn out to be more burden than blessing, but… She was willing to trust Oliver’s instinct and, she had to admit, her gut said Roy was a good kid served a crappy hand. Maybe they could help change that…

_______

Two years later, while browsing the card section, Felicity had her seven month old daughter in a baby sling across her chest when she heard the familiar sound of someone ‘awwing’ over her little girl. The stranger, an older woman with a grandmotherly vibe to her, was quick to compliment Adelaide’s chubby cheeks and pretty blonde curls. 

"Is she your first?" she asked. 

And Felicity smiled, shaking her head. “No, my son is a high school senior,” she replied, plucking a card from the shelf that read ‘Congratulations from Mom & Dad.’

Roy would be crossing the stage and accepting his diploma in two weeks and then, in just a couple short months, he’d be joining his cousin Thea as they navigated freshman year of Yale. She blamed hormones for the tears that stung the back of her eyes.

It’d taken time and effort and a lot of proving to him that they wouldn’t just up and leave him or discard him, but, in the end, Roy was theirs and they were his.  _Family_. Maybe not traditional but definitely just as beautiful. And, despite her initial hesitation, she wouldn’t trade one second of the last two years for anything. 

Taking the card, she left the aisle, pressing a kiss to the top of Adelaide’s head as they made their way to the check-out line. She checked her watch briefly and smiled. If she timed it right, she’d be home just as dinner was delivered. Chinese. Her favorite.


	31. werewolf!oliver + mates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> olicity + oliver is a werewolf + mates - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

Raisa used to tell him stories when he was a young boy, before his fangs could do much more damage than the bite of a mosquito. Tales of mates, of wolves who were destined for a love so great that fate had marked their partner for them to one day find. As a pup, he’d believed those stories, convincing himself that she was out there somewhere, waiting for him, that one day, when he was long grown up, he would go out and find his mate. 

But, as boys do, he grew up and out of that fantasy. Being a boy who had to hide his…  _affliction_ , he had more pressing matters than whether or not he found his supposed ‘mate.’ Werewolves were what humans considered legends. Personally, he thought he was more like  _legendary_ , but whatever, he’d cope.

He’d cope with the furry little problem his father had passed down to him (thanks a lot,  _dad_ ), somehow skipping Thea but leaving him stuck with one night a month where he was a little… violent. Having grown up with it, however, violent became more like cranky, and if it ever became worse than that, there was always the dungeon of questionable decor, especially that wall of chains… 

He was fifteen before he gained complete control, trading in murderous tendencies for a headache and the urge to tell every single person he met to go fuck themselves. It was no surprise that people thought Oliver was a little out of control, chalking it up to having grown up in a life full of pampering and no rules when, in fact, there were a lot of rules. Like ‘thou shalt not eat the neighbors… or the staff… or any family members… or really just anyone,  _ever_.’ Ugh,  _rules_. 

So, high school was a tense affair, at least until he realized that there were  _other_ ways to relieve tension than going on murderous rampages guided by the moon’s pull. Like sex. Sex was good. Sex was  _very_ good. And Oliver was particularly good at sex. So his reputation for being problematic was soon replaced with his reputation for being a good time and freely offering orgasms to any pretty girl he saw. High school wasn’t so bad after that. 

College wasn’t so bad either. Not any of the four he attended and, subsequently, dropped out of. He could blame that on werewolf problems, as he was oft to do, but it was mostly just the fact that he didn’t want to be there. College was not what Oliver saw himself doing for the next four years and taking over his father’s position as CEO wasn’t in the cards either. What he wanted to do, he had no idea, but it wasn’t what they had planned for him. 

He was twenty-three and seriously considering a vacation to somewhere warm and sunny with no expectations or demands of him when everything changed. 

Raisa’s stories were always much more romantic. Werewolf meets girl, girl falls for werewolf _immediately_ , werewolf bites girl, werewolf and were-girl live happily ever after, the end. There were some middle parts he didn’t remember quite as well, but he did remember that they fell under the category of romantic and not…  _whatever_ this was. 

She bumped into his table in the middle of a busy coffee shop. He was looking up vacation spots with beautiful, exotic women and bungalows with little more than a bed, which is pretty much all he saw himself needing anyway. It wasn’t like he really  _needed_  a vacation, not from anything but his parents’ nagging anyway, but the Queen jet could be ready in an hour and he was an impulsive kind of guy. His mouse was hovering over the buy button for him to purchase his all-inclusive package when she’d turned, her bag knocking over the near-full latte he’d been slowly nursing the past half-hour. It toppled over, dousing his laptop, and lap, immediately. With a yelp, he leapt up, a growl growing in his chest, his eyes flashing amber, and his teeth sharpening abruptly. 

"I am  _so_ , so sorry. Somebody bumped into me and I bumped into you and— Look, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it’s salvageable. Trust me, I’m an IT expert, I will  _personally_  make sure you didn’t lose anything!” 

Oliver got a handle on his furry side and opened his mouth to snap at her, but the words fled as soon as his eyes met hers. _Blue_. The brightest shade of blue he’d ever seen in his life. And pink. Lips so pink he thought the simple word was put to shame. And yellow. Blonde curls fell down her shoulder and across her white sweater with little panda heads all over it. His breath hitched in his throat and then, he felt it— a searing in his skin, directly over his heart, just like in Raisa’s stories. He didn’t have to touch it, but he did, feeling his skin pucker and raise. 

A mark. 

A mated mark. 

She stared back at him, at the grimace he wore from the pain still throbbing on his chest. 

"Oookay, so I’m getting the vibe that you’re going to need to think on that… Um." She dug into her bag and found a pen, pulling out a small pad of green sticky notes and scribbling something on one before handing it to him. "That’s my number. I’m Felicity, by the way. I actually have to go, I have a job interview in… wow, five minutes. But, I feel really bad about the whole latte thing, so just, give me a call and I’ll help you out with your computer, all right?" She half-smiled awkwardly as he continued to stare at her in shocked awe. With an uncomfortable noise, she placed the little piece of paper on the table, pushing it a few inches toward him. "Again, sorry." She raised a hand in goodbye, bright yellow nails flashing at him, and then skirted her way through the crowd to get to the door. 

He watched her leave, a goofy smile dressing his mouth. 

 _Felicity_. 

Maybe happily ever after wasn’t so far-fetched after all. 


	32. stranded on an island together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trapped on a deserted island together + olicity - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

"What are the odds of this happening to you  _twice?_ " Felicity wondered. 

At Oliver’s glare, she turned her eyes away, brows hiked, and clucked her tongue. “Bad timing, right. I’ll wait to joke until  _after_ we’re rescued…” She held up two knotted fingers and told him, “Fingers crossed for less than five years.” 

With a sigh, Oliver blinked at her and then turned on his heel to walk away across the sandy beach they’d swam to. 

Felicity frowned after him. “Hey! I know the island isn’t huge, but I don’t exactly have a navigation system that can tell me to turn right at the coconut tree if I need to find you…” Rolling her eyes to herself, she jogged after him. “I knew I should’ve brought Digg along.”

"I heard that," he called back. 

"Well, I’m not wrong!" she shouted in return.

Stopping, he turned to look at her as she reached his side. “We’re trapped on an island with no way to communicate with the rest of the world, no sign of fresh water  _or_ food, and I don’t know if I should hope for other people or not, since the last time I got stuck on and island and met the locals, they tried to kill me,  _repeatedly_.” 

"Okay, but just so we’re clear… This is  _not_  Lian Yu.” She waved a hand around. “I know you have some issues with islands, completely understandable, but shutting me out isn’t going to help either of us.”

Blowing out a long sigh, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m not shutting you out.” Before she could argue, he reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. “But I’m not dealing with this very well. When I went back to Lian Yu, I was prepared. It was a conscious decision. Being here, like this, it’s…” He struggled for the right word before eventually settling on, “ _difficult_.”

Felicity raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m sure it’s a lot more than difficult, and I can’t blame you for that. But, listen, I gave Digg numerous maps on what course our plane would be on. Not to mention the computers have our flight plan recorded and were tracking the plane the whole time. It’s even got this nifty thing where it records the diagnostics and tells you if the doors were opened, so, let’s not sell Digg short, okay? He’ll put 2 and 2 together and realize that we had engine difficulties and used the emergency parachutes to get to land… Or, well, water, and  _then_ land. There are a few more islands for him to check out, but I think if we set up an SOS or something, he’ll get the idea.” She stared up at him searchingly. “It’s not like before, okay? I promise.” 

Oliver stared at her a long moment, and she could see the hesitation in his eyes to believe her, to believe that he wouldn’t end up spending another five years trapped on an island with no guarantee that he would ever get home. But then she felt the hand on her shoulder begin to loosen. She watched the tension bleed from his frame. And, surprising her, he pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her tightly, one of his hands brushing through her hair. 

He held onto for a long time and the surprise soon fled, replaced with the ease and comfort that came with having him close. She closed her eyes and tucked her face down against his chest, damp from ocean water. Was she scared? Of course she was! But she also trusted Digg to find them and,  _really_ , there wasn’t anyone she’d rather be stuck on a deserted island with. 

The echo of his chuckle leaving his chest told her she’d said that out loud and she was glad for how close she was to him, if only to hide the embarrassment clouding her face. 

"For the record… There isn’t anybody else I’d rather be stuck on an island with either." He leaned back then and looked down at her, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "Come on… We’ll gather supplies for an SOS and then we’ll see what we can do about food and shelter. You’re right, Digg will find us, but we don’t know how long that’ll take." He released her, stepping back, and she watched the controlled force of Arrow come into action. 

Much as she enjoyed the moment of comfort, she knew it was this version of him that would help them survive if this island turned out to be anything like Lian Yu. She didn’t always like ‘Arrow,’ seeing as he could be demanding and reserved very little pity for mere mortals such as herself, but she would have to cope, just as he was. 

Hours later, the sun set and the beach wore a giant SOS of rocks for Digg to find. They’d scavenged the island and found it was, indeed, deserted, at least by people. There was a fresh water supply though, as well as animals and fruit to eat. Having salvaged his bow and arrows from the plane, Oliver was more than ready to  play Tarzan to her Jane, rounding up some food and building a fire to cook it on. Felicity found her belly full of reasonably tasty pheasant before the day finally caught up with them and they laid down on a bed of leaves.

Falling asleep in a strange place wasn’t easy for her. Oliver was wrapped tight around her, both for warmth and to keep her safe from island critters. It comforted her, even as she twitched at every noise. As much as the Arrow had been efficient that day, she knew that wasn’t who was wrapped around her now. As he brushed his nose against the nape of her neck and murmured her name sleepily, telling her to try to get a few hours rest, she recognized the signs that said it was Oliver the man and not the vigilante hero.

And, while she knew the circumstances could be better and there was no set date on which they would be returned to the rest of civilization, she still burrowed deeper into the hold of his arms and let herself enjoy it. Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer that Digg would rescue them tomorrow, but, for tonight, she shared an island with Oliver and fell asleep to his heartbeat drowning out everything else.


	33. no more waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [gif](http://i61.tinypic.com/jt061j.gif) ([source](http://glassmenagerie.tumblr.com/post/81555390438))

Oliver watched Felicity approach through the frosted glass of her door, his feet shifting under him as he stood on her front porch. There was a lot he wanted to say and do and it was all jumbling up in his head now. He’d practiced it on the way over, during the hour he spent driving around the city, trying to gather up his courage. “Oliver, hey,” she said, as she pulled the door open. She looked past his shoulder to the street ahead, searching for Diggle or the town car before spotting his bike and looking back at him with a frown. “Is everything all right?”

"Yeah, it’s fine, I just… wanted to see you.”

Her head cocked curiously. “Is this about earlier? Because I know you have a ‘no Felicity in the field’ rule, but I think I pulled my weight just fine.” She smiled then. “The lack of bullet wounds is an achievement, right? And besides, I really think Digg’s and Sara’s training is helping with things. You weren’t there, but there was this goon the third floor that came out of  _nowhere_ and I elbowed him in the nose. Okay, mostly because the only other option was using my tablet, and you  _know_ I’d never risk her. But the elbow worked just fine and even Digg looked proud of me after. I mean, the henchman-guy was only down for like ten seconds, but that gave me enough time to grab a fire extinguisher and bash him over the head and…” She paused. “Wow, now that I hear myself tell this story, I’m a little concerned with how violent I’m becoming… Maybe I need a hobby.  _Oooh_ , I could join that pottery class they have flyers up for in the break room at QC. That’s a form of stress relief, right? I mean, obviously it’s not going to work for anyone. I highly doubt I’ll see you there, but I can see myself making a cute little coffee cup or something. I could make you one too, paint it green, because  _reasons_ , and—”

She was mid-sentence when he took his chance, reaching for her, his hand bracketing her face, her chin fitting in the curve of thumb and forefinger. He tipped her head up as he brought his mouth down to slant over hers, their lips meeting and cradling each others. He pressed her back against the doorjamb, his front flattening against hers. She was soft and warm and her hair tickled over the back of his hand. Her lips parted on a breath and his tongue stroked over hers, flicking the roof of her mouth and the back of her teeth. He could feel her fingers tightening in his leather jacket, pulling on him, drawing him impossibly closer. It would be so easy to get lost in this, in her, and just not explain, not slow down or stop or say anything he had to say.

It was a few minutes before their frenzied kissing slowed down into something softer, gentler. He pressed lingering, sipping kisses to her lips that made her breath hitch and a soft noise escape her.

And then his forehead was pressed to hers as he leaned back a little, staring down at her.

“What was that for?” she wondered, her voice a little thick. Her hands were smoothing down the lapels of his jacket for something to focus on.

He licked his lips and said, “You were amazing today. Elbows and all.”

“I’m amazing most days,” she countered, brows hiked. “What made tonight different?”

He leaned back a little, pausing to peck her lips, and asked, “I’ve been telling myself for a long time that we can’t be together because it’d put you in danger, but I forget that you already are in danger, every day, and you… you adapt or you fight. Sometimes I’ll save you and sometimes you’ll save yourself, and maybe someday…” He shook his head, his jaw ticking, “you don’t get saved. I don’t know. But I do know that I’m tired of waiting and I’m tired of convincing myself that we’re better off apart. So if you’ll have me, even after I made a colossal ass of myself by avoiding all of this, us, and what we could be… I want to see where this could go, because I think it could be somewhere really,  _really_ good.”

Felicity stared up at him, biting down on her lip to hide a smile, and said, “You wanna come in? I’ve got a bottle of wine with our names on it.”

“Red?” he asked.

She pushed off the door and took his hand, pulling him after her. “Of course.”

He grinned as he closed the door behind him and followed her toward the future.


	34. vampires/werewolves/war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vampires versus werewolves olicity - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

Felicity watched him stalk from one end of the room to the other, floorboards rattling under the pressure. His eyes flashed in his anger and a pelt of thick, sandy fur grew along his back before it returned beneath the surface, leaving scarred, tanned skin instead. He was acting cagey, as he usually did when the vampire factions started making noise. 

She laid on her side, head pillowed on her arm, a blanket of sheep skin drawn up to her shoulder. “You can’t do anything, not tonight at least,” she reminded him. 

"I can’t ignore it. We were charged with watching Starling. The people here are ours to protect," he growled, his canines gnashing together, the bones of his face moving beneath the skin, making the hollows and plains become more angular. 

"You’re shifting," she murmured, dropping her gaze for a moment. "If it’ll make you feel better, just do it. We can lay by the fire until you calm down." 

"I’m calm," he snapped, balling his hands into fists, his claws sharpening. 

Sighing, Felicity pushed up from their bed, her blanket falling aside, and stood with her hand cupped under her rounded belly. Unlike him, who still wore his pants, even if the laces in the front were drawn loose and the fabric hung off his lean hips, she was blessedly naked. She’d grown tired of the constriction of clothing the more her pregnancy went on and longed for the days when she could shift into the bronze wolf she once was. But it was discouraged when pregnant and the stress of the war lately was already putting too much at risk. 

He stopped pacing when she reached for him, her hand falling to his forearm and squeezing lightly.

"You’re wearing a hole into the floor…" She stared up at him, her brows raised. "Oliver, you know I’ll support you in whatever you want to do. If you think the best decision is to attack now, to push them back, then do that, but if you think it would be better to wait, to give yourself more time to gather information, then wait. Either way,  _this_ , worrying yourself to weariness, it’s only hurting you.” 

He stared down at her, sorrow replacing his anger. “We lost good people.  _Innocent_ people. My father died entrusting this village to us. And every day that one of those leeches comes after our people, I feel like I’ve failed him.” 

"Hey…" She reached up, cupping his face, smiling gently as he leaned into her touch, his eyes falling closed. "You haven’t failed anyone. You’re a good man and a good leader. You’ve sacrificed everything to be here, to watch over these people, I know that, I  _see_ that every day. They’re not even of our kind and you still parole their borders and take your men out to watch out for them. Even when they hide their children, afraid they might be bitten by the ‘rabid dogs’ the more ignorant folk might think we are.” She stroked her thumbs over his cheeks. “You have nothing to prove to anyone, do you hear me? You are only  _one_  man and you do far more than any should ask of you.” 

He covered her hands, his thumbs pressed to her wrist, and then stroked his fingers down her arms and across her shoulders before sliding his callused palms along her back to her hips. He pulled her in until her belly pressed to his and a faint smile turned up his lips. 

"Will you still love me when I’m an old, bitter wolf?"

She grinned up at him, arching her back and letting her head fall back, her long hair brushing against his hands. “Come to bed and I’ll show you how much I love now, now and always.” 

His fingers danced up her spine to the nape of her neck, kneading along her hairline. “Are you trying to distract me from war?” 

"That depends…" She stepped back, biting her lip as he followed after her. "Would it work…?” She continued moving toward their bed, unsurprised when Oliver let himself be towed along with her. 

She took a seat on their bed and reached for the laces on his pants, pulling them free as she stared up at him, her bright blue eyes beseeching. When his eyes shifted color then, it wasn’t from anger or bloodthirst, but from lust and love. 

War, it seemed, would wait one more night. 


	35. teen wolf au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> olicity + teen wolf au? - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

"Listen, I don’t want to be a buzzkill,  _buuut_ … according to the research I did, you’re in for a night of being chained up, and not in the fun way,” Tommy informed him, spinning his computer chair around so he could see his pacing best friend. “I know we were joking before about the whole ‘aroo’ thing, but I might be signing myself onto the believer side of things. You, my friend, are going to be rocking canines and fur tonight.” 

Oliver shook his head. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds? I’m not a werewolf, okay? I mean— I’m sixteen. I come from a well-off, respected family. Isn’t there some kind of cure? Can’t I just pay someone to whip me up a vaccine or something?” 

"This isn’t the clap, all right? This is like… herpes. It comes and goes when it feels like it and you’re never  _really_ herpes free.” Tommy shrugged. “Not that Werewolf 101 was covered in Health class, but you get the idea…”

"This isn’t funny! I have a date with Laurel tonight, all right? I can’t just… I  _can’t_ be a werewolf.” Oliver thrust his fingers back through his hair and tugged. “Why the hell did I let you talk me into having a party in the woods? Huh?”

"Hey, don’t blame me for your shitty idea to wander off into the woods alone and get bit by a feral wolf. I told everybody to pair up…" He shrugged. "I mean, at the time I was making a joke about getting laid, but you should’ve had a look-out if you needed to piss so bad. If I remember correctly, you and McKenna were getting pretty close…" he teased, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows. 

Groaning, Oliver abruptly sat down on the edge of Tommy’s bed. “This isn’t happening… I finally got Laurel to forgive me for the last time I screwed up—”

"You mean when you hooked up with her sister?"

"And now I’m a freaking werewolf? Are you  _serious?_ What the hell did I ever do to the universe?” 

"Frequently told it to go fuck itself when you were drunk, but I’m guessing you didn’t mean that literally…?"

Oliver glared at his best friend, who merely held his hands up in surrender, leaning back in his chair. 

"Listen, I know it sucks, but Laurel will probably let you reschedule. So, skip the party tonight. I’ll chain you up, keep an eye on you, break open a can of dog chow if you get antsy, it’ll be fine. I promise." 

Oliver raised an unconvinced brow. “How do we even know this is real? Huh? I mean, we don’t exactly have proof that werewolves even exist.”

Tommy blinked at him. “You were bitten by a wolf in the woods and that bite completely healed overnight…”

"I hit my head. Maybe I imagined the whole thing." 

"There were bloody bandages…" Tommy reminded.

"So I hit my head  _really_ hard.”

"Then you won’t mind me taking a look for a head-wound," Tommy suggested, sitting forward in his seat.

"All right, fine, so I have a great immune system and my bite healed up. So what?" 

Tommy sighed. “Look, I know it’s hard to swallow—”

"Being a werewolf!? Yeah, it’s a little hard for me to take seriously. This is  _not_  how things are supposed to go!” 

"Well, it adds a little spice to our lives, don’t you think? I mean, we’re young, rich, and bored. Why not add a little supernatural to the mix?" 

Oliver glared witheringly at his best friend before he hopped up from his bed and started for the door. “I’m going to that party tonight,” he yelled back obstinately before stomping away. 

"I’ll have some chains waiting for you when you inevitably lose control," Tommy shouted back. When he didn’t get an answer, Tommy shrugged, turning his chair toward his computer, and started doing research on where he might find some wolfsbane he could get on short notice. 

* * *

 

“What do we know about this guy?” John wondered, frowning as he stood next to Felicity in the dark alleyway behind the house.

“From what I got hacking into the school servers… Oliver Queen, sixteen, wealthy family, B student, frequently gets into trouble for tardies, mouthing off to the teachers, and rarely putting his homework in on time. Gossip says he’s got an on/off relationship with Laurel Lance, daughter of the local sheriff, and sleeps with just about anybody that draws his eye.” She shrugged. “Your average teenager, I guess.”

“And you think the alpha bit him?”

“I  _know_ the alpha bit him. I  _saw_ him bite him.”

“You didn’t intervene?”

Felicity glared up at him. “You told me not to. It was a strictly observation-only mission.”

“Yeah, I remember, and you usually find a way to get yourself into trouble anyway.”

Felicity snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Sighing, John shook his head. “How do we know this kid is important?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s important. What matters is that he was bitten and it’s a full moon. I know the alpha is our priority right now, but this guy is probably really confused. Not to mention super dangerous.” She shrugged. “He’s not like us. He wasn’t born this way.”

“Which makes him a liability,” John growled, frowning.

“ _No_. That makes him somebody we need to protect. I’m not saying add him to the pack. But he’s young and he was bitten on our watch.” At John’s raised brow, she corrected, “Fine, on  _my_ watch. Which makes him  _my_  responsibility.”

“Your responsibility is starting to turn,” John informed her, nodding his chin toward the house party ahead.

Felicity turned her head forward, narrowed eyes seeking out Oliver, only to find him clutching an arm around his waist while his other hand was buried in his hair. He stumbled forward, struggling to get through the crowd and away from everyone. A brunette was hurrying after him, confused, calling his name.

Felicity sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

John gave her a short nod. “Meet me back at the house. Bring him if you have to.”

Folding her lips, she saluted him and took off.

* * *

 

Oliver groaned, pain ricocheting up and down his spine. He was dizzy and his entire body hurt in a way it never had before. Not even that time he jumped off the roof of his house on a dare and broke his arm. He could vaguely hear Laurel calling his name, but he just kept moving. He had to get to Tommy. He needed help. He felt like he was losing consciousness, but at the same time worried about the desperate, clawing feeling that was crawling up his throat.

He was going to hurt somebody.

_Anybody._

Unless he got to Tommy and the chains he promised to have on hand.

He’d just reached the back end of his car when his knees gave out and he hit the hard pavement.

He was far enough away from the party that he could only barely hear the pumping music. Laurel must have given up on him, because she wasn’t reaching out to help him now.

Good.

He didn’t want to hurt her, or anyone.

He was panting, his hands spread out on the cold, wet pavement. He gave a loud, pained cry as he felt the bones in his hands shift and then— _claws?_ What the hell? Mostly they looked like really long, gnarled nails in serious need of a manicure.

He stared at them incomprehensibly for a moment, before a pair of flats appeared in front of his line of sight. Panda heads?  _What?_

With a sigh, someone suddenly bent, resting an arm on their knees as they knelt in front of him.

Oliver lifted his head slowly, panting as pain still coursed through him. He stared at the blurry figure in front of him. He wanted to say something. Like ‘go’ or ‘run away’ or ‘I’m dangerous.’ But every time he opened his mouth, he felt like throwing up.

“It’ll pass,” a voice said, soft and understanding. “The nausea, I mean. Not so much the changing thing. Even if you think you’ve got a handle on it, you’re still going to shift tonight. On the bright side, I won’t let you hurt anyone.” She paused. “That sounded like a threat, didn’t it? I didn’t mean for it to be one, exactly. Although, well, I guess I would have to put you down if you hurt someone. But I don’t plan on letting that happen.”

Gritting his teeth through another wave of pain, he shook his head and asked, “Who are you?”

“Oh, right, kind of skipped that part. I’m Felicity Smoak. And I’ll be your guide to Werewolf 101. Not something you signed up for, but definitely something you’re going to need.”

Oliver swallowed the bile biting at his throat and managed to push himself back so he was leaning against his car. He was sweating and his nails were still freakishly long, but the pain was coming down a little. He turned his head to see her a little better, blinking before he squinted at her.

Felicity was… pretty. Slim with round cheeks, smiling pink lips, bright blue eyes, and waves of blonde hair. She had a black leather jacket on over a pink t-shirt with a colorful cupcake printed on the front and dark-wash jeans.

“How’d you know?” He shook his head. “About any of this…”

She cast her eyes away for a moment and bit her lip. “Well, that’s a long story. A history lesson, really. And not one you’re probably up for while you’re in this much pain, so…” She slapped her knees and stood up, holding a hand out. “I can promise you won’t hurt anyone, nobody will hurt you, and when you don’t have the mother of all headaches, I’ll answer any of your questions…” She wiggled her fingers. “What do you say, Queen?”

He stared at her hands, where pretty green fingernails flashed at him, and then looked up at her face, looking open and genuine and ridiculously cute. And, well, werewolf or not, Oliver had never turned a pretty girl away. So…

He took her hands and let her pull him up from the ground.

When his knees shook and threatened to give up on him, she merely wrapped an arm around his waist and held him steady. She didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.

“You’re one too, aren’t you?” he asked, looking down at her.

She grinned up at him, her eyes flashing an impossibly bright blue. “Born and raised.”

He frowned. “You can be born a werewolf?”

“Ah, ah, ah, you’re getting ahead in your history lessons.” She shook her head. “Come on… I’m going to take you somewhere safe and the rest will come later.”

“The rest?” he asked as they started off the road and toward the woods behind it.

“Trust me, there’s a lot…” She looked up at him with a sympathetic smile. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but… welcome to the rest of your life. Because all of this, isn’t going away any time soon.”

“Does that include you?”

Felicity paused for a moment, looking up at him with hiked eyebrows.

Never let it be said that he didn’t take the chance to flirt.

She let out a slightly shocked, but still amused, laugh.

“Cute,” she muttered.

“I try to be.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, you might want to curb that for a while. We’ve got serious business ahead.”

“How far ahead? I can flirt a lot faster than you think.” He winked at her when she looked back up at him.

“Weren’t you just in tremendous pain?” she wondered, lips pursed.

“Still am.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Is it more or less attractive if I act like I can take it?”

“Not sure ‘attractive’ is even on the scale. If it hurts, tell me. Keeping it to yourself will only make it worse.”

“Yeah?” He grimaced. “What can you do?”

Reaching up, she wrapped her hand around his, his arm hanging limply over her shoulder. He watched, fascinated, as black veins appeared on her skin. He could feel his pain ebbing, like it was being sucked out of him. But when he saw the strain on her face, he realized that in order for him not to feel it, she had to. With what little strength he had, he tore his hand out of her grasp.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he ordered her through gritted teeth.

She looked up at him, slightly surprised. “I was only trying to help.”

“I don’t need help, not if it’s going to hurt someone else.”

She stared up at him a moment, her face softening. “Looks like there might just be more to you than meets the eye…”

He frowned down at her, confused, but she didn’t explain.

“Come on…” She took his hand once more, but didn’t try to take his pain from him. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

He sighed, feeling irritable. “To where? Where are we going? Why are you helping me?”

“I’m helping because that’s what I do. As for where…” She grinned. “Into the wolf den, of course.”

He stared down at her, rolled his eyes to himself, and muttered, “Right, of course.”

Because that just made  _total_ sense, didn’t it?

Shaking his head, he let her lead him forward through the dark, eerie woods, and wondered when his life took such a dramatic turn into the weird and supernatural.

He didn’t know where he was going, not really, or what he’d find when he got there, but, for all that he was wary, he had to admit… Whoever Felicity Smoak was, he trusted her. Some part of him, instinctive or not, rooted in this werewolf thing that he barely understood, recognized that she was an ally. So even if he felt like death warmed over and he was pretty sure his entire life was about to be royally  _fucked_ , he didn’t regret taking her hand back on the road. Maybe she was leading him to the slaughter, or maybe to salvation, all he really knew was that everything was about to change and when she said she’d help him through it, he believed her.


	36. supernatural au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> olicity + supernatural au (as in arrow as supernatural not crossover) - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

"I don’t want to get trigger happy here, but what are the odds that this girl is telling the truth?" Thea wondered, sitting on the edge of her motel-issue bed, cleaning out her favorite gun. "You really don’t smell trap here? I mean, how did she even find us?"  

"Diggle says she tracked him down through the FBI. Something about hacking and not-so-invisible footprints…" Oliver shrugged, leaning back in his chair, his father’s journal in his lap. "I don’t know. All I know is that she sounded pretty convincing to him, and he wouldn’t send us in if he thought it was an ambush." 

"I love John as much as you do. He’s like a father to me. But this feels hinky. She’s Joe Average. She shouldn’t know anything about us. Even if she did see something freaky; she shouldn’t know to track us down." 

"So maybe she’s a vessel." Oliver shrugged. "I know as much as you do."

"Yeah, well, wouldn’t be the first time you were tricked by a pretty face…" 

Oliver frowned. The last thing he wanted to talk about was how his ex-girlfriend turned out to be a demon. Helena seemed a little intense while they were dating, but he hadn’t realized just how much until it was almost too late.

"That’s not what’s happening here. This is a job. A Diggle-approved job. So let’s go in, do what we have to, and get out." 

Thea sighed, tossing her gun aside, and stood from her bed. “Fine. But if she ganks you, I’ll be saying ‘I told you so’ until our next job.” 

"Deal." 

* * *

Oliver frowned as he knocked on the door, backing up on the porch to see that the lights were off in the windows. Her message said to be there at 7 and he was definitely on time. 

A honk behind him told him Thea was tired of waiting and still feeling antsy about things. He waved a hand back at her. Maybe she was right. Something did feel off. 

But just as he was about to walk down the porch stairs, a voice called out behind him, “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m late. I just had something I needed to finish at work and, well, before you know it I’ve spent two hours stuck under a desk, playing with wiring.” She rolled her eyes at herself and hurried up the steps to meet him.

Oliver watched her approach. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, bouncing against the back of her bright blue jacket. Her square glasses were sliding down her nose and she pushed them up, flashing some bright green finger nails at him.

She smiled warmly, holding a hand out for him. “Sorry! I’m Felicity Smoak. You’re Oliver, right?” She frowned, casting her eyes around. “John said there were two of you? And your record shows you have a younger sister…”

A car door opened and slammed then before Thea swaggered up to meet them, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her leather jacket. “I wiped my record out. Actually, I wiped  _both_  our records. So, you mind telling me how you found us?” Thea wondered, leaning to one side and popping her hip out as she narrowed her eyes at Felicity. 

"Tech genius," Felicity said without modesty, pointing at herself as she grinned. "I went to MIT and spent most of my life hacking, especially when I was bored. The FBI is one of my favorites. They keep updating their firewall and I keep laughing as I break through it." She shrugged. 

"And you were looking for us,  _because_ …?” 

Felicity looked between them, chewing her lip. “Well, see, I thought it was crazy at first. I thought I was just, you know, hearing things. I’ve got a lot of late nights and too much caffeine mixed with too little food can probably lead to hallucinations. But then it kept happening…” 

“ _What_ kept happening?” Oliver wondered, staring down at her profile.

She turned, looking up at him, her bright blue eyes looking worried and a little frantic. She was younger than he was expecting, a few years younger than him and a whole lot more innocent than he’d probably ever been. She had that gentle sweetness to her that always sucked him in.

He softened a bit, his heart shifting in his chest. He could almost hear Thea sighing. She wasn’t wrong when she said he had a habit for falling for the wrong girl. But Felicity looked a lot less like ‘wrong’ and a whole lot like ‘right’ at the moment. 

"Voices. They were quiet at first, like background noise, or static. But then they got louder, and there were so many. It was like… Like I had a dozen television’s on and I couldn’t control the volume." 

He frowned. “What are these voices saying?” 

"I… I couldn’t make it out at first. It was a different language, sometimes just noises, but then… Then it started to make sense. I—" She stepped back from him and started for her door, digging her keys out. "It was just a few words here or there. Bits and pieces, so I wrote them all down. And then it started to make sense. It wasn’t just words, it was sentences.  _Fractions_  of sentences.” She pushed her door open, inviting them inside with a wave of her hand as she kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag to the ground before flipping on the lights and hurrying through the lower half of her townhouse toward an office. 

Oliver and Thea followed after her, his sister closing the door behind them and keeping her hand on her gun as she cast her eyes around suspiciously. 

He could hear Felicity rummaging around in her office and turned his head toward Thea. “You know what this means…?” 

Thea nodded shortly. “That she could be a prophet, yeah.”

"You remember the last prophet we found?" He arched an eyebrow at her. 

"You mean the fallen angel you hooked up with?"

 He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Sara was a good person.”

"She was also crazy."

"She got better, when people believed her." 

Thea pursed her lips at her. “Are we forgetting about the time she tried to kill us?” 

"She was only doing what she thought was right." 

"Yeah, all I’m hearing is ‘I have terrible taste in women, stop trusting my instincts.’" Thea pushed past his shoulder, her high-heeled boots clicking on the floor. "If this one turns out to be crazy, I’m not waiting on your call again. I’m done with your resurrections, Ollie." 

He huffed, his jaw ticking. “I’m not the one resurrecting myself. If I had a choice in the matter, things would be different.”

She scowled at him. “You better mean that in an ‘I’d never die’ way and not an ‘I’d just  _stay_ dead’ way or the next time you get resurrected, it’s going to be because I ganked you myself.” With a sniff, she turned on her heel and walked away. 

Oliver sighed, turning his eyes up and glaring at the ceiling. Shaking his head, he finally followed after her, only to find Felicity behind a desk covered in papers with weird symbols and words. 

"Okay, so I know this looks like you should be signing me up for a straitjacket, but here me out…" She held her hands out to them before they could say anything and then directed her attention back to the papers in front of her. "There’s an apocalypse coming. And I don’t mean that in a Blockbuster kind of way. I mean, a real one with devils and angels and demons and Gods and the whole shebang. Which, you know, being a Jewish girl who regularly forgets to call her nana, is pretty nuts for me. Maybe not so nuts for you, but I don’t know much outside of the grave-digging and supposed murders you two are being targeted by the FBI for." 

Thea and Oliver exchanged a look. 

"The point is, there is an apocalypse coming. A big one. And, for whatever reason, these voices are trying to tell me about it, or warn me, and, well, that’s where you come in." 

"And why, exactly, are we so important?" Thea wondered. 

"Because…" Felicity bit her lip and pulled out a piece of paper covered in Thea’s name in large, bold letters, over and over again. A second paper she pulled out had only one name, but a full sketch of Oliver himself.

"Look, she got that brooding forehead you do," Thea muttered with a snort.

Oliver stared down at the paper, at his own face staring back at him in black and white.

"The voices keep mentioning you two," Felicity murmured. "You’re going to be important. Very,  _very_ important.” 

Thea swallowed tightly and stepped forward, frowning down at the paper before she raised a curious eyebrow at Felicity. “How?”

Felicity smiled, and it was full of the kind of hope Oliver rarely saw anymore. 

"You’re going to save the world." 

 


	37. thief!Felicity/fbi agent!Oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> au - felicity is the world's best thief. target: the queens. olicity - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

"Should I be honored or offended?" 

Felicity went still, her hand still gripping an attractive string of pearls and diamonds. She turned her head to see the figure standing in the doorway of the safe. Dropping the necklace inside the velvet bag tied to her hip, she turned to see him. Cocking her head, she surveyed Oliver Queen. Just as tall and roguishly handsome as she remembered.

"Honored. After all, the world’s best thief has to have standards."

He chuckled lowly, his arms crossed over his chest. “That necklace was my great grandmother’s.”

"She had good taste."

He raised an eyebrow. “You know I can’t let you leave here… Never mind that you’re wanted on three continents—”

"Four," she corrected, plucking up a ruby ring from a satin cushion and adding it to her bag. 

"—or that you’ve been the top of my priority caseload for a while now."

Her mouth twitched as she looked back at him, her hair swinging abruptly at her back. “I’m flattered.”

"It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here specifically…" He stepped further into the room, his hands falling to his hips. "So either you’re extremely arrogant about your skills, or you  _wanted_ me to catch you…” He raised an eyebrow. “Does this have anything to do with the Bratva? I know you’ve had a few run-ins with them, none of them pleasant.” 

"Always happy to help a damsel in distress, aren’t you?" She tsked, circling the table and picking up a gold watch he’d inherited from his grandfather. She looked it over before putting it back down where seh found it.

"While all of those are possible avenues of deduction, and congratulations on your quick thinking, did you ever consider the fact that, regardless of whether you’re FBI or have it out for me, maybe I just enjoy the challenge?" 

He frowned, staring at her through narrowed eyes. 

"Leaning toward offended again?" Her mouth turned up on one side. "Listen, Oliver, I’ve enjoyed this little cat and mouse game. I mean, I’m sincerely flattered that you think I’m such a big fish. Never mind that I donate half of everything I steal or that I only hit corrupt families. I mean, I’m not saying ‘Robin Hood-esque’ but maybe toss the idea around a bit…" She shrugged, reaching over and grabbing up a silver tiara that she gave a quick look over before tossing back. "But, in the end, we both know that I’m going to get out of here, just like I always do, and you’re going to walk away with your tail between your legs. Now, whether you decide to tell your superiors or not is up to you." She took a few steps toward him, smiling when his hand twitched toward his gun. "I do enjoy these talks, though. We should do it more often." 

"Like the next time you decide to raid my vault?" 

"Maybe I’m a big fan of your family jewels…" She winked at him before reaching for a canister in her thigh holster. "Now, remember, don’t breathe too deeply or it’ll burn your lungs. And squint your eyes, because this is going to sting." 

Oliver pulled his gun free, but it was too late. 

Felicity tossed the canister and a cloud immediately began to escape, filling up the room and collecting thickly around him. 

Oliver was left coughing, struggling to see, and, when the cloud dissipated, she was long gone. 

He cursed, kicking the door to the vault and turning on his heel to stomp away. 

He’d been tracking Felicity Smoak for eight years now and she only seemed to get better at avoiding him. A computer hacker with sticky fingers, she spent most of her time on the wrong side of the law, even if she did end up giving back to the better side of it. 

He paused in the threshold of his father’s office, however. 

One particular fact about her had always stood out, and she’d hit the nail on the head earlier. She only hit the corrupt. 

He turned, looking back at the vault, and took three long strides to get back to it. 

He cast his eyes around and took a quick inventory before his eyes landed on the tiara. His sister’s tiara. 

Every piece of jewelry that was missing was his mother’s, passed down from family members, sure, but hers all the same. Anything that was his or his sister’s was left behind. 

Felicity hadn’t come there solely to test her skills or bait him. She was leaving him a message. One he planned to decode as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

 


	38. hacker!felicity / fbi!oliver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felicity is a hacker for hire and oliver is an fbi agent that needs her help. - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **polyvore** : [Felicity's outfit](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=119357708)

After weeks and months of searching, he finally had a real lead.

When he went looking for SmoakScreen, he had an idea of who he’d find. A geeky guy with a love for Poptarts, living in his mother’s basement, with a few computers all around him, fingers permanently attached to the crumb-covered keyboard.

Instead, he found himself sneaking into a condo overlooking Starling City park. There, he searched until he found a blonde woman, barefoot in a meticulously ordered office dressed in sci-fi memorabilia with three bookshelves overflowing with familiar and unfamiliar titles. She had a set-up that put the FBI to shame, which was why she was at the top of their list when it came to hackers. And why he needed her.

The condo was registered to a Felicity Smoak. Twenty-five years old, MIT graduate, a high-level worker in the Applied Sciences department of Merlyn Global. She came highly recommended but kept a low profile in general. Probably because she was hacking into big governments for money. 

He expected to see her doing just that, but instead he found her dancing. 

Some poppy sounding music playing in the background while she danced around in her office, her crop top moving attractively as she swayed. He was distracted for a moment, by the amount of bare leg and the swinging of her hips, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders as she moved. 

He watched for a few long moments, the look of pure joy on her pretty face more than a little distracting. She raised her arms up in the air and let the music sweep her away.

Before he got lost in her, he gave his head a shake. “Felicity Smoak?” 

She shrieked, whirling around and grabbing up what appeared to be a screwdriver… Although, why it was lighting up like that, he had no idea. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry for the interruption, but I’m an agent with the FBI and we have urgent business we need to discuss.”

"An agent with a warrant?" she asked, one of her hands pressed to her chest. "Because if not, then you’re trespassing and I’m fully within my right to shoot you." 

He blinked at her. “With your screwdriver?” 

"How about your curb the condescension, all right? What are you doing in my home?" 

"I tried knocking…" He cast his eyes away. "I think the music was too loud." 

"Really? Because I think you snuck in here, probably because you weren’t sure what to expect so you wanted to get the drop on me. Smart, but still against the law." She put a hand on her hip. "What is this about? The FBI have no reason to be here." 

He swallowed before he snorted his disbelief. “Does the name SmoakScreen mean anything to you?” 

"By definition it’s something that you do or say to hide something or to take attention away from something else. A distraction. Maybe like harassing women about something they have nothing to do with while whoever you’re really looking for is somewhere else.” She lowered her screwdriver, tapping it against her leg. “Look, it’s late. If you have questions, you can come back tomorrow, with a warrant.” 

He stepped a little closer, his gaze falling to her hand as it squeezed around her screwdriver. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He held his hands up in surrender, trying to put her at ease. “I can show you my badge.” He reached toward the inside pocket of his jacket, but when she flinched, he paused. “My name is Agent Queen. I’m here on behalf of the FBI because we… need your help.” He straightened up, readjusting his tie.

"And what makes you think I can help?" she wondered, narrowing her eyes at him. 

He smiled faintly. “You’re the most accomplished hacker we’ve ever come across… And we’re having a problem with the  _second_ most accomplished.” 

Her lips pursed for a moment and she looked away. “So,  _hypothetically_ , let’s say I am this SmoakScreen person… What happens if I help you? How do I know you won’t lock me up in Gitmo for terrorism?” 

"They don’t take blondes," he joked. 

"I dye it," she muttered faintly. "And that doesn’t solve the issue." 

"You’ll get a full pardon from any cyber crimes you may have committed… We’re offering a complete white out on your record, no time served." 

Felicity chewed her lip, placing her screwdriver on the edge of her desk. “Who would SmoakScreen be working with?” 

"The FBI directly, a few other agencies, indirectly." He stare at her searchingly. "Anybody you bring in is up to you, but they’ll have to be checked out first." 

"And if I wanted to request that somebody on your side be brought into things? Somebody I trusted." 

His eyes narrowed. “You have somebody on the inside?” 

"Not somebody that works for me. He doesn’t even help me. But I know him, and I trust him. He’s a good man, and if I have to trust the FBI would anything, then I want him to help me slog through the red tape."

"What’s his name?"

She paused for a moment before saying, “John Diggle. You get John on board and I’ll help you. Just as soon as you get me a binding contract that says you won’t be trying to ship me off to a 9 x 9 cell any time soon.” 

"John Diggle," he repeated to himself before nodding. "All right. Anything else?" 

"Yeah." She walked toward him, her eyes on his the whole time, looking far more confident than she had before. "The next time you drop by, you  _knock_.” 

Oliver’s mouth twitched as he watched her walk past him. He grinned when she was out of sight. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured to himself. 

 


	39. angel / demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> angel / demon au + olicity - **anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

Oliver always found feathers in his bed after. It should annoy him, it really should. But for some reason, it always made him smile. 

He was a demon, for Satan’s sake. It was one thing to corrupt an angel for fun, it was another to fall in love with her. He was pretty sure if this was a competition, then she’d be winning. 

A soft chuckle caught his attention then and he turned to see her leaning in the doorway to his bedroom. She was wearing one of his shirts, a long, dark green number that reached mid-thigh, and holding an overlarge mug of coffee in her hands. “I don’t know how one man can look so happy and so grumpy at the same time,” she mused, walking toward him on the tips of her toes. Because the floor was always cold and she hated having to put on slippers or socks. She was a funny little thing like that.

Her toes were painted pink this time. He sighed. He was the worst demon alive. He really was. 

But then she was reaching for him, sliding a hand up his chest, over the puckered scars his human body could never get rid of. Every place her fingers touched turned black, symbols and markings bleeding through for a moment before they sunk back beneath his skin, hidden from plain sight. He caught her chin and tipped it up to kiss her, his hand burying in her hair, fingers tripping over curls and silver feathers alike. 

Angels and demons were forbidden from being together. 

A funny thing, when he thought about it. The forbidden was what demons loved most. 

But there were limits. 

Demons could play, could tempt, could do everything in their power to turn an angel dark. But just as they had the power to corrupt the angels, the angels were just as capable of making a dark soul light again. And Felicity was doing a pretty good job of trying to do just that. 

Or was she? 

Sometimes he didn’t know.

Sometimes he thought she liked him just as he was, dark and brooding and full of sin and tragedy. 

She tasted like coffee and hope and sunshine. He breathed it in, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her in close, grinning as she laughed against his mouth, hitching one leg up high on his waist and lifting herself up, her arm wrapping around his neck. 

When she pulled back from his lips, her own were swollen. He took her coffee from her and placed it on the bedside table before he slid his fingers under the hem of her shirt and up her thigh, teasing over soft skin. 

She cupped his face, her thumb stroking over his cheek, and then she bent to kiss his stubbled chin, her hair sifting over the back of his arm as she did.

He breathed in deeply, that floral scent of her, full of peace and love. His nostrils flared; he shouldn’t like it so much. He should like sulfur and fire and the crisp scent of smoke. His eyes flashed black, the pupils a bloody red. But she didn’t cringe, she didn’t pull back or flinch. Instead, she pressed a kiss to his brow.

"You want some help getting those feathers out of your sheets?" she asked softly, rubbing her fingers up and over the hollows and arches of his face. 

He shook his head, sliding his hands under her thighs and squeezing before he turned and pressed her back against the mattress. “Let’s add some more instead,” he murmured, before he tore the shirt open, sending buttons flying, and knelt between her thighs. 

She grinned up at him. His angel.  _Felicity_. Bright as sunshine and soft as satin. 

He’d probably never make it to heaven; he’d never really wanted to. But this was as close to it as he could imagine anything being, and as long as she’d have him, he wasn’t going anywhere. 


	40. her guy - olicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: can we get a flip on oliver's 'you'll always be my girl' wher ehe's always felicity's guy? - **Anonymous** ([Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com))

"Why do you stick around?" he wonders, in that maudlin, ‘what is the point anymore’ way of his. 

He’s been moping and brooding, but that’s not new. 

She smiles at him, shakes her head as she sighs. Pushing up from her seat at her computers, she crosses the room to kneel in front of where he’s sitting, shoulders slumped, frowning at his hands like they carry his history all too clearly. 

She slips her own hands over his, pressing her fingers against his palms, over the lines and the calluses and the metaphorical blood he’ll never see washed clean. 

"Because… you’re my guy," she says, a half-smiling turning up her mouth. 

His furrowed brow begins to smooth out and, slowly, his eyes raise to meet hers. She can feel the weight her words carry, the sincerity and honesty of them, filling the room, the space between them.

"I mean, not my  _guy_ -guy, obviously. You’re my guy, yes, but not- not like  _that_. Digg’s my guy, too. It’s like a three-way deal. Wait, no, not… That wasn’t I meant. There is me and you, and then me and Digg, and you and Digg, of course. I didn’t mean— I mean, you know what I meant. Ugh.” She rolls her eyes at herself. “Right?” 

He smiles at her, the angst of earlier fading from the tense lines of his face. He chuckles lowly, quietly, and squeezes her hands, maybe a little tighter, like he needs to hold onto her.

"I’m your guy, Felicity." He nods. "I’ll always be your guy." 

And she lets the discomfort of saying too much fade, her nerves fine-tuning themselves once more. With a soft, breathy sigh, she nods. “You will.” 

_He is._


	41. future endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oliver finds out he and felicity are endgame in the future somehow - **anonymous** ( **[Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com)** )

"You can’t tell her," John told him, his voice stiff with warning. 

Oliver glowered at him. “She  _deserves_  to know.”

"If she needed to know, she would’ve come with you," he insisted. "You were chosen to see;  _only_ you.”

Oliver ground his teeth together, swallowing tightly. “How do I know this isn’t a trick somehow? What I saw… What you showed me… That can’t be real. It can’t…” He blinked, like somehow it might scrub away the images clinging behind his eyes. Of Felicity, still just as beautiful and bright and full of hope as ever, with a pretty little girl holding her hand, her head topped with springy, blonde ringlets. “If I am who you say I am… If that’s who I turn out to be—”

"Green Arrow," John supplied. 

"—then how can I be with them? How I can risk her by being with her?" He shook his head, staring searchingly at one of his closest friends. Only this man was from eight years into the future; he was harder and more weathered than the John Diggle of 2014. 

"I can’t tell you how it all happens. That might…  _upset_  things. The balance.” He shook his head. “Look, all I know is that you had to see what you were going to have. You had to see  _them_. Because you need to know that this is going somewhere, this fight, this cause, it might not always have its happy days, but Oliver… You’re going to find peace someday. You’re going to be happy.” 

Oliver let out a heavy sigh and turned his gaze down. “We were married, _publicly_ … We have a daughter…” 

John nodded, half-smiling at him. “She’s perfect. She’s smart and funny and so…  _so_  loved.”

Oliver dragged his hands down his face and nodded.

Despite knowing all the ways it could go wrong; despite being so,  _so_ aware of the danger it could bring them; despite all of the sleepless nights he’d spent thinking of the ‘what if’s’ surrounding his brilliant, beautiful partner, he smiled then. He let out a breathless,  _hopeful_ laugh, and he looked up at John, at one of his best friends, and he had no idea how to express his gratitude for what he’d been shown. Couldn’t begin to explain the light feeling in his chest at the promise in front of him. 

"She…" He swallowed tightly. " _Felicity_. She’s happy…? With me?” 

John grinned then, looking a little less weary. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s… She’s really happy. I’ve never doubted that.” 

"Good," he choked out, trying, and failing, to stifle his grin.

John eyed him a moment. “So, we’re good then? When you go back, you’re not going to… tell her anything?” 

"No. I… won’t say anything." 

John raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’m good at keeping secrets?”

"Sure, you can be. But there are limits. And for you, Felicity’s a big one." 

"I’m not  _lying_ to her…” Oliver insisted. “Lying by omission  _isn’t_  lying… Right?” 

John sighed, and looked just on the verge of rolling his eyes. “Just… look at it this way. If you say anything, you might change something.” He stared at him meaningfully. “And I think we both know you wouldn’t want to change anything about your future.” 

Oliver inhaled, his mouth ajar, but couldn’t argue with John’s statement, so he closed his mouth and nodded agreeably. He wasn’t sure when, exactly, things between him and Felicity would start, but… knowing where they were going, that he had something to look forward to, that maybe there was something more than just the fight at the end of the day, it was more than enough to keep him going. The payoff was beyond worth it.

So, he would keep quiet and let things play out as they were meant to. And on the nights when life seemed unforgiving, when there was no end in sight, he could close his eyes and remember his wife, and his daughter, and the family he would have one day. His present had been more than a little complicated and there were too many days he wanted to just give up, but his future… His future looked bright. 


	42. no hands (S M U T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't know if you're taking prompts and if you aren't you can totally ignore this. But you said in one of your tags that you need to write smut so how about Oliver not being allowed to touch. Maybe at the foundry or work or something and felicity gives into the sex but she won't let him use his hands." - **anonymous** ( **[Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com)** )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somebody sent this to me aaaaaaages ago and I ended up writing it with rosietwiggs in mind. it was going to be a lot longer, but i decided this worked too. literally pure smut, so, enjoy!

Don’t get her wrong. There were few things that Felicity liked more than Oliver’s hands. He was a tactile person. Always touching, reaching, gripping. She could watch the flex of his fingers for hours; how they straightened and curled and plucked at the taught string of his bow. She had long memorized how they felt on her skin, the callused pads of his fingertips dragging down her arms or skimming along the slope of her stomach. She knew, with pinpoint accuracy, where every scar was on his hands, she knew the paths each vein took, and the intersecting lines of his palm. Felicity loved his hands. She loved the way they fit around hers, how his fingers slotted between her own, how he pressed his palm into hers as if expecting it to mold and fit to his like a puzzle piece it’d been searching for and finally found.

Oliver liked to touch her. That was evidenced in how his hand always found an elbow or a shoulder or the small of her back as soon as she was within reach. And those little touches were nice, they kept her grounded. The heavy touches though… He liked to take his time, to touch everything, every part of her as reverently as if it were the first time. And she loved that. She loved how lost she could get in the way he mapped out her body, that furrow in his brows, that determined set to his mouth as he found new ways to make her feel appreciated. As he found new spots that made her squirm and laugh and beg him to fuck her.

He always got her to beg.

Now it was her turn.

“No hands,” she reminded, as soon as his arms raised, fingers outstretched, reaching for her. It didn’t need to be said. He had satin scarves holding him to his headboard; green, because she liked the imagery. Oh, he could get loose if he wanted to. They weren’t too tight and he was, well,  _insanely_ strong. But at her words, he stopped trying, dropping his hands back down, fisting them in the pillow behind his head.

Oliver was naked. She’d discarded his pants slowly, peeling them and his underwear away with wandering, massaging fingers, keen to keep him constantly on edge.

Felicity was seated on his stomach in little more than her stockings. She’d tossed the matching black lace bra a while ago, so now she was only wearing the stockings, cute little pink bows on each strap leading down her thighs. It was Oliver’s favorite set. She knew because whenever she wore them, he left them on until she was so dizzy with her climax that she saw stars. Then, when she could barely lift her head, he’d tug on the bow with his teeth, his mouth still wet with her, before slowly rolling each stocking down her legs. Reasons she was particularly fond of them herself, actually… But tonight wasn’t about her pleasure. Oh, she’d definitely get hers, but tonight was about him.

He wasn’t allowed to use his hands, but he could direct her…

“Touch your clit. Gently,” he ordered, his voice a little ragged as he raised his head off the pillow to watch her.

She’d been rocking herself back and forth, just an inch or two at a time, rubbing against his stomach.

While Oliver had learned the importance of patience, he didn’t appreciate the ‘look, don’t touch’ idea of this particular game.

Well, he appreciated it in one way. He was rock hard; she occasionally reached back to stroke him, rubbing her thumb along the crown, squeezing and pumping him until his hips would start to move, and then she’d stop.

He ground his teeth each time, his eyes flashing with desperate need. It was feral. Sometimes she thought she could orgasm on that look alone.

Felicity leaned back a little as she slid her hand between her legs and circled her clit with her forefinger. Like he’d asked, she kept her touch light, stroking forward and backward, her knuckle rubbing against his stomach. It felt good, little shocks of pleasure running through her, but it wasn’t quite enough to get her where she needed to go.

Oliver enjoyed watching her come. He never took his eyes off her face when he had his mouth buried against her. He could take her in any variety of positions, but he liked it when he could see her face the most. The satisfaction it gave him was something else. She’d had enough partners in the past to know that some people could be greedy, could focus solely on getting themselves off. She couldn’t say for sure that Oliver had been like that once, although she had a pretty good idea that pre-island Oliver was a lot more self-motivated in  _and_ out of the bedroom, but post-island Oliver was all about sharing the wealth. Or, well, at least with her he was. She’d never polled the other women he’d slept with after his return – not something she ever wanted to do, actually – but she knew he was different with her. There were a few things Felicity simply wasn’t ashamed to say she was confident about: her intelligence, her skills with a computer, and how Oliver felt about her.

He didn’t always spell it out in words. Most of what he felt was shown through actions, through the uncensored expressions that crossed his face, and through the way he said her name. Just the one word. He didn’t need those three big ones, not all the time, and he didn’t need to spell out a whole soliloquy on what made her important in his life. One word. Eight letters. Four syllables.  _Felicity_.

She bit her lip, her head falling back, a strangled noise leaving her as her fingers continued to rub at her clit, picking up the pace a little.

“Stop,” he told her gruffly.

Though a part of her didn’t want to —it wanted to sink those fingers lower and curl them up inside herself— she listened. Eyes heavy, she raised them to search his face, watching a muscle tick in his jaw. She leaned over him, sliding her hand over his chest and around his neck, the tips of her breasts rubbing against his chest, and she brought her wet fingers up to his mouth, letting them drag over his lips. He let out a shuddering breath and licked her finger, raising his head a little higher to take it into his mouth, sucking it clean, taking his time, letting his tongue linger and stroke. As he let go, he nipped the end with his teeth. She tapped his mouth before she dragged her thumb down his chin and pressed a hard kiss against his lips.

Pushing herself up with her hands braced on his chest, she moved her back and out of the way before she let her hands drag down the front of her. Skimming from her neck and her shoulders down her chest, she curled her hands under her breasts and teased her thumbs over her nipples. She rocked her hips in circles all the while, letting her warm, wet heat, sink into his skin.

The sinew of his chest was remarkable. Every muscle flexed and tightened, straining against the need to touch her already. His hands kept straining their bindings, his fingers outstretched before they’d curl back in and bite at his palms. She darted down to kiss his right bicep, dragging her tongue over the valley of flexing muscle. His fingers reached out and curled into her hair. It was technically a ‘no-no’ but she let him. He rubbed a loose curl between his fingers while she mouthed kisses up his arm, biting at his shoulder and dragging her teeth over the slope until she met the crook of his neck and lashed her tongue over his skin.

She turned her head up and let her nose slide under his chin, the bristles of his stubble tickling her skin. Her hair fell from his fingers and she rubbed her hands down his chest soothingly while she followed with soft kisses, pausing to suck on each of his nipples while she wiggled her hips back and felt his cock pressed against her slit. He hissed, throwing his head back, eyes falling closed momentarily. She nipped at one nipple before sliding her mouth down further. The lower her mouth got, the tenser he became, every part of him rigid with focus.

“Come back,” he said, more than a little breathless.

She raised her eyes up to him, an eyebrow arched.

“Please.”

She gave it a second and then flicked her tongue back to touch his shaft.

“ _Felicity_.” He yanked on his bindings and she stopped.

She crawled back up and looked down at him from her perch on his chest, her head cocked. “What can I do for you, Mr. Queen?” she asked, pressing her hands down on either side of his head as she leaned over him.

He raised himself off the bed and took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his lips and his tongue, his teeth gently cradling the bottom as he looked up at her. He didn’t answer for a while, content to nuzzle her breasts, trading between them. She gripped his head as she arched her back, pressing closer to the pressure of his tongue.

He released her nipple to kiss up her chest. “Let me taste you,” he asked, his voice hoarse. “I want you on my tongue.”

The guttural tone of his voice made something inside of her tighten up only to unfurl.

With a little readjusting, he moved down the bed a bit and she straddled his face. Even without his hands, even with all of her teasing, he still took his time. He kissed her thighs, biting at them playfully, rubbing his chin against her sensitive skin to make her jump. And then he started to lick her, avoiding her clit at first while he suckled long, teasing kisses down her pussy. His tongue swirled, moving every which way with purpose. This was another way he showed her how much he cared. If given the opportunity, Oliver would spend the whole day with his mouth buried between her thighs. She wasn’t sure she’d stop him.

“As fun as this is…” Her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered closed briefly, a cracked noise leaving her throat. “We— We’re supposed to be… It’s not about… Oh God, that, keep doing that…” Reaching down, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding on tightly. “Wait, no, that’s not…” She shook her head. “This is supposed to be about you.” She pushed up on her knees, but he chased after her, sucking on her clit and making her thighs shake. “That’s cheating!”

He laughed against her and the vibration was doing nothing for her focus.

“Oliver,” she sighed, blinking her eyes open.

“I like this. This works for me,” he said, turning his head to kiss her thigh, leaving a wet imprint behind. “Just stay right there… And look at me.”

Her gaze fell, meeting his, and he nodded. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Felicity bit her lip, reaching up to tuck her hair back. “When I said I’d tie you to the bed, I kind of figured I’d be doing more of the work.”

His grin was positively wolfish. “We agreed I couldn’t use my hands, you didn’t say anything about the rest of me.”

A flash of heat warmed her body, starting at the roots of her hair and making its way down her, settling exactly where his tongue reached out to flick.

“Fine, you found a loophole.” She reached down and stroked a thumb over his cheek. “Just means I have to work doubly hard.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Looking forward to it.”

Before she could say anything more, Oliver put his mouth back to work, and Felicity, for once in her life, forgot what words were.

She would repay him, after all, he was the one tied to the bed, but, as much a she argued this shouldn’t be about her, she was more than aware that this was one of Oliver’s favorite things. Who was she to argue?

**[end.]**


	43. reaching (mini drabble)

Felicity remembers the beginning. She remembers stiff, uncomfortable Oliver who had a barrier a mile wide. She remembers the way he kept his distance, physically and emotionally, from anyone or anything that might stand a chance of breaking through to him. She remembers the struggle to be stoic, to not care, and how the mask would crack one day, only to be sealed shut, impenetrable, the next.

She remembers those days, but they seem so far away now.

The Oliver she knows now is constantly reaching; sometimes hesitant, sometimes bold. His hands for her shoulders, his fingers down her arm, his palm at the small of her back. She knows the cradle of his mouth against her own like it was always meant to fit there. She presses back, leans into him, knows that where she falls, he will catch her. 

This is partnership.

This is balance.

This is Oliver reaching across his own divide, searching and finding what,  _who_ , he wants. 

And she will always reach back.


	44. beach date (teen au)

Felicity was breathing through her mouth, mostly to avoid the smell of the ocean that had started giving her a headache ten minutes ago. She liked the beach all right, when it was sunny out and she was shoulders deep in cool water. But that wasn’t in the cards for their sunset stroll.

She checked her date out from the corner of her eyes and bit her lip. He was handsome; he knew it too, but confidence could be attractive when it was balanced right. They met, as cliched as it was, in a coffee shop. If she’d known visiting her aunt for the summer would mean cute boys, she might not have complained to her mom so much about going.

Eh, she was here now, and on a date with a boy whose smile made her heart leap up into her throat.

"So. Is this where you take all your dates?" she wondered, arching a brow at him as she walked in the surf, her sandles hanging from one finger. 

Arms tucked behind his back, Oliver shrugged. ”Honestly, I’m pretty sure the beach is more romantic in theory. Sour fish smell, sand everywhere, not the best place for a first date… Probably not my best plan.” 

She laughed under her breath. “No, probably not.” 

"Definitely not good for a first kiss either. The boardwalk, maybe. If I push my luck."

"Smells a bit up there too," she reminded. 

"So no kiss.  _Yet_.” He looked over at her, half-smiling. “How about a race?” He pointed down the long line of the beach, where seagulls swooped down toward the sand and over the water. “You win, I’ll take you wherever you want. I win, you pretend I didn’t come up with such a terrible date idea and give me a second chance to think up something better.” 

She nodded. “Deal.”

Rubbing his hands together, he said, “All right, so on the count of—”

"Go!" Felicity was off like a shot, laughing all the while. 

"That’s called cheating," he shouted after her, amused as he quickly caught up to her. 

Felicity merely laughed. She didn’t really care who won. She ran down the beach, smiling, and knew, at some point tonight, she was going to kiss him. And she didn’t care  _where_  that kiss happened, as long as it did. 


	45. happy

Felicity had a problem with smiling. She did it every time Oliver kissed her. 

"You’re doing it again," he said, nipping at her bottom lip playfully.

"I can’t help it." Shaking her head, she pecked his mouth and pressed her forehead to his. "You should take it as a compliment."

Sitting as she was on the counter, Felicity was at just the right height and balanced at the very edge enough that her body was mostly resting against him. Oliver’s hand stroked from her hip down her thigh. He kneaded the underside, thumb rubbing circles along her bare skin and tucked his hand in beneath her leg, holding it close to his side.

"I do." He nuzzled her nose with his. "I just like noticing it. It’s been three months, and you still smile every time."

Felicity shrugged, her hands balling up in his shirt and tugging it up his back a few inches as she hummed, slanting her mouth over his. She smiled, helpless to it, and when she pulled back, she stared down at him, her eyes half-lidded. “I’m happy,” she told him simply, genuinely. 

He nodded, gazing back at her, that soft look in his eyes that made something warm and content fill her stomach. “Me too.” 

"Good." She puckered her lips. " _Kiss_.”

Chuckling under his breath, he leaned down and met her lips.

When she smiled, he smiled, and he hoped she never stopped.


	46. road trip

The day Felicity graduated high school, she already knew what her future would look like. She would go to MIT, get a good job, make a decent living, adapt to the general grind, and, occasionally, hack into whatever she saw fit just for fun.

That future did not involve her summer. Instead, it was the open space between her youth and adulthood. It was a free pass to explore whatever needed exploring, to carve out a place for herself in the world and find out who she wanted to be. 

The car that pulled up in front of the tiny apartment she shared with her mother was not his usual ride. It wasn’t ridiculously expensive or shiny enough she could see her reflection in. It was older, there was rust eating away at the corner of the back door, and she was surprised he was willing to be seen in it.

He was fiddling with a radio dial and frowning as all he heard was static when she pulled open the passenger door and climbed inside, one leg tucked underneath her. 

"Where’s the lambo?" she teased. 

Oliver shrugged. “Didn’t really fit for this.”

“ _For_ …?” She quirked her head curiously.

"We’re going on a road trip," he told her, grinning. 

Mouth turned up on one side, she said, “Oh yeah?” 

"Mmhmm. Me and you, the open road, nothing but terrible diner food and cheap motels. We’ll go wherever you want, every little tourist trap that catches your eyes. You want it, it’s yours." 

Felicity stared at him a long moment, searching his eyes. “Anywhere I want?” 

"Anywhere."

"You won’t complain there’s not enough caviar on the menu or the bed is lumpy?" 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Cross my heart.” 

She nodded. “Okay. You’ve got yourself a road trip partner.” 

"Good. Because we’re leaving now." 

"What? Oliver, I don’t even have anything packed!" 

He shrugged. “We’ll buy what we need on the road.”

Spoken like a boy who’d never had to worry about money a day in his life. 

With a sigh, she closed the passenger door beside her. “Fine. But if you think we’re buying anything high end, you’re dead wrong. It’s touristy t-shirts and cargo shorts from here on out, buddy.” She leaned back in her seat to get comfortable and then nodded at him. “Let’s go.” 

He grinned back at her. “All right.” 

Pulling away from the curb, he started down the street, and Felicity sent a silent farewell back to the apartment she’d spent most of her life in. She figured she’d call her mom later and hope she’d be supportive of her last-minute grab for freedom.

Oliver’s hand on her knee drew her attention then, and she turned to look at him, smiling lightly. She tucked her fingers in against his hand and he lifted it, sliding it back so their palms met and their fingers folded together. 

"Where do you wanna go?" he asked, taking a left down a side street. 

Felicity smiled and said, “ _Anywhere_.”

He stared back at her and then nodded. She trusted him. Whatever adventures laid out there, she would greet with curiosity. Her life might already have a pretty set idea of where it was going, but at least with Oliver there, she knew there would always be an element of spontaneity to wiggle its way in and whisk her away.


	47. wedding march

Felicity was drunk. 

She was also humming the wedding march.

Oliver smiled down at her, watching her brow furrow with concentration as she carefully undid his bowtie for him.

"Should I be taking this as a hint?" he wondered.

"Hm?" She looked up at him and blinked. "What hint? I want you naked. So I’m  _making_ you naked. Starting with this tie…” She took either end of it and pulled it apart.

Laughing under his breath he shook his head. “Not the undressing me. You do that all the time. The singing.”

"Singing? Pfft. I’m not singing. I don’t sing." She pointed a finger at him. "I’m a shower singer.  _Strictly_.” 

He smiled, reaching his hands out to her hips, steadying her when she started to sway. “I’m familiar with your shower singing, yes. I meant the song you were just humming.” He stared at her searchingly. “Something along the lines of ‘hear comes the bride…’”

Felicity smiled dreamily and started humming the wedding march again, her eyes half-lidded. Leaning into him, she pressed her head to his shoulder. “Oliver?”

He rubbed his hands up and down her back soothingly, enjoying the soft feeling of her satin dress sliding over her body. “Hm?”

"Do you think Detective Lance will walk me down the aisle at our wedding?" 

He grinned slowly. “I think he would if you asked, yeah.”

She nodded faintly and let out a soft sigh. “Okay.”

"Felicity?"

"Yeah?" She plucked at the buttons of his shirt absently.

"Don’t you think I should ask you to marry me first?"

She shrugged. “You will.” 

"Yeah?" 

"Mmhmm."

"How do you know?"

Ringing her arms around his neck, she leaned back and smiled up at him. “I know  _you_.”

He stared down at her, drunk and happy and beautiful, and he thought of the little velvet box with an engagement ring that he had hidden in the foundry. “Yeah,” he said. “You do.” 

She beamed at him then, and pulled herself forward, burying her face against his chest. A few beats passed before, “Oliver?” 

"Yeah?" 

"I think… I think I might be drunk."

He chuckled lowly. “Come on. I’ll put you to bed then.” 

As he swung her up into his arms to carry her, she let out a little squeal and hung her arm around his neck while her free hand gripped the lapel of his jacket. “My hero,” she declared, a kicking her feet to drop her heels from them and wiggling her toes contently.

He smiled down at her. “ _Always_.”


	48. the bubble

She won’t open her eyes. She knows it’s morning; she knows they have things to do; she knows they can’t stay in this warm, comfortable bubble for much longer. But as long as her eyes stay closed, she can pretend. 

"I know you’re awake," he says, in that grizzled, just woke up, sleep laden voice of his. 

She wrinkles her nose and keeps her eyes closed. “Nope. Can’t you see? Eyes are closed.”

He chuckles lowly, reaches up and drags a fingertip down the length of her nose, tapping the end. “So what happens then? When you open your eyes…” 

She reaches a hand up and traces her finger around his shoulder, down his bicep, along every dip and scar and curve of muscle she can find. “Regular work. After hours work. Family stuff.” She blows out a sigh. “You name it. It’ll all just come crawling back and invade The Bubble.”

“ _The Bubble_ ,” he repeats.

"Mmhmm. The nice, warm, carefree,  _naked_  bubble.”

"That does sound nice," he admits.

"Of course it does. There’s no deadlines, no questions we can’t answer, no bad guys, no bad guys pretending to be good guys, no flaky moms or angry sisters. No death or uncertainty or what if’s. There’s just me and you and skin and bodies and really nice kissing." She tips her head back expectantly and he answers, nibbling at her lips, sucking at them, tongue stroking everywhere his teeth scrape. "Just bliss," she sighs as he kisses down her chin. 

"I like bliss." His fingers play over her bare back, the pads a little rough, sending a shiver down her body. Her leg is tucked between his, just about every inch of them finding some part of each other to press against. 

"Bliss is good." 

"You know what it doesn’t have?"

She hums. “Bathroom breaks?”

She can feel him smiling even if she can’t see it. “Or coffee, or breakfast…” 

"In a perfect world, you would make these and feed them to me," she argues.

He laughs, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I can do that. If it means you stay right here, warm and happy, for as long as possible.” 

She’s quiet for a moment then, before finally blinking her eyes open. She looks up at him, and walks her fingers up the slope of his shoulder and his neck to his cheek, where she taps him. “I  _am_ happy,” she declares earnestly. “Eyes open, eyes closed. As long as you’re here, Oliver… I’m happy.”

He stares searchingly at her, as if he almost can’t believe he brings that to someone’s life. And then he kisses her, pressing her back against the bed, sliding the sheet out from between them. She wraps her arms around him, hitches her legs around his waist, and invites him as close as he can get.

As if the world knows, her phone buzzes on the bedside table, with his following a few seconds later.

And she knows. She knows the bubble has popped, temporarily. But it’s okay. Because even with all the other stuff, all the responsibilities and life’s constant weight on their shoulders, it’ll be okay. They have each other, they’ll hold each other up through whatever needs their attention now. And that, in its own way, is bliss.


	49. dumped!oliver/waitress!felicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt** : "Felicity Smoak is a waitress at a restaurant where Laurel just dumped Oliver HARD in public :p This could be fun!" - anonymous ( **[Tumblr](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/)** )

Felicity flinched as the yelling got louder. The couple at table six had been on an off fighting since they’d arrived. Thankfully, however, they weren’t one of her tables. No, she just had to pretend she didn’t notice them while Carlos uncomfortably tried to drop by their table for an order. So far, all either of them had asked for was a glass of water. Felicity had a bet going with the cook on whether or not somebody was going to get it tossed in their face. She had ten bucks on Scorned Girlfriend for throwing the water, but so far, no such luck. 

Taking up a full drink tray, she started across the floor, and promptly kept her head averted and her smile wide as she made her way to one of her tables to drop off their order. When she turned around, Scorned Girlfriend, a statuesque brunette, had finally made it clear that not only was the fight over, but so was their relationship. Sadly, she did  _not_ throw her glass of water in her ex’s face before she left. _Rats!_ There went a good chunk of Felicity’s tips! 

Hesitating a moment, Felicity took a look around to see where Carlos might be, assuming Dumped Boyfriend would want his check to he could quickly get out of the spotlight his failed relationship had put on him as most of the customers and staff had bore witness to it crashing and burning. 

Spotting Carlos, she raised a hand to wave him over, but only got a swift headshake in response before he ducked into the back. Sighing, Felicity made her way over to the table, shifting her feet and offering a sympathetic smile. “Hi…” she greeted, fiddling with her drink tray. “Well, this is awkward. But, I mean,  _bonus_ , you’re about ten minutes away from happy hour, where drinks are 10% off. In the mean time, have you checked out our appy menu?” 

The man blinked up at her, looking noticeably startled before he gave a snort of a laugh and a smile upturned his lips. “That’s an…  _interesting_ upselling technique.”

She shrugged. “Not every day somebody gets dumped that hard in clear view of twenty customers.”

He winced.

“Sorry, that was probably… insensitive.” She frowned. “You know what might make that better though? Chocolate cake. We have a three tier chocolate orgasm for your mouth. Seriously, it’s amazing.” 

Shaking his head a little, he bit his lip. “Is that better or worse than waiting for happy hour?” 

“Depends on how much you like chocolate.  _Personally_ , I would mix the two… A nice bottle of wine, some chocolate cake, you know, treat myself.” 

“For getting dumped…?” 

“Well, I only heard half of what she was saying, but I’m pretty sure she’s not coming back. So your best chances of finishing this day out half okay are taking my advice.” 

“Chocolate and wine… Can’t say it’s the worst advice I’ve been given.” He sat back a little an looked up at her, nodding slightly. “All right. Any recommendations on the wine?” 

“I’m a red wine girl, myself.” 

“Does that mean if I order a bottle you’ll share it with me?” he wondered, raising an eyebrow.

She barked out a laugh, and then, seeing that he was at least kind of serious, she glanced away, and then back. Spinning her tray in her hands, she said, “No offense, but your last relationship looked pretty intense. You should probably take more than a five minute break before finding a new girlfriend…” 

He grinned. “Your advice gets better every time.” 

She shrugged, smiling. “So? What’ll it be?” 

“The chocolate cake… and a glass of your best red.” 

“You got it!” She just barely managed not to salute him like a dork before she walked away.

Just as she pushed the door open to the kitchen, Felicity took a glance back at him. Cute didn’t cover it. Well, except the hair. That was  _awful_. 


	50. Seductive kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[8.](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/124215358112)** Seductive kiss - [rosietwiggs](http://rosietwiggs.tumblr.com/)

The wall was cold against her back, sending a shiver down her body that ended with a tingling in her toes. She could feel her chest heaving, but she wasn’t sure if it was due to running or how close he was standing. Maybe a little of both. Looking up at him from under her lashes, she bit down on her lip and swallowed thickly. 

Oliver had always been intense; it was something she thought she’d gotten used to. But there were levels of intense. Angry-intense she could handle; she could go toe-to-toe with his temper and never flinch. But this… this wasn’t angry-intense, this was seductive-intense. This was fire in her veins and a buzz crackling across her skin. 

There were people chasing them. People with guns and vengeance in mind. Professionalism said that they should stow the excess of adrenaline for later. But the look in Oliver’s eyes said he wasn’t interested in playing it safe or professional. 

His hand started at her hip and traveled up her side, rucking the fabric of her shirt as it went. Her stomAch clenched, and  _want_ swamped her abruptly. Her gaze dropped, temporarily caught on the way his fingers crept higher. And then she turned her eyes toward his chest; a button on his shirt had popped. She wanted to reach for it, for the button just above it and pull it loose, part his shirt down to the bottom, push it and his jacket off his shoulders and drag her fingers down hard, sinewy skin. A heavy breath left her, just short of a whine, and she slowly raised her eyes, letting them wander over his chest and up the column of his neck, past a scar on his chin, lingering on the firm press of his lips, and finally meeting his dark eyes. 

“We should probably…” she trailed off. 

Oliver nodded vaguely, but then his mouth was slanting over hers, firm and heavy. His hand slid up her back, cradling the nape of her neck, holding her steady, one finger skimming over her skin before curling into her hair. Felicity forgot about the impending danger and focused on meeting each drag of Oliver’s mouth. She leaned up into him, standing on the tips of her toes, her arm wrapping around him, fingers scraping through his hair. 

Oliver had a habit of kissing her in a way that made thought vanish, trickling out of reach, leaving her in a daze. She was always happy to see it had the same effect on him. Her head fell back as he kissed down her chin and buried himself at her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin. He reached a hand down, under her knee, and lifted her up, hitching it over his hip. And she lost herself in it, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his waist, the firm press of his body against her more than a little consuming. 

But then she heard gunshots and chatter and she remembered that they were on the run. So, though it pained her to stop him, she untied her legs, dropped her feet to the floor, and said, “Much as I’m enjoying this –and I  _am_ , we will  _definitely_ be revisiting this later, but– we’re still working…” She clapped her hands down on his shoulders. “So, work now, seduction later.” 

Drawing back, he licked his grinning lips. “Deal.” 

Felicity shivered, and then shook her head.  _Focus_ , she told herself. There was plenty of time to have fun later. And _oh_ , what fun it would be…


	51. war's end kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[9](http://sarcasticfina.tumblr.com/post/124215358112)**. “War’s End” kiss - **[rosietwiggs](http://www.rosietwiggs.tumblr.com)**

The city was on fire. Felicity was starting to think that was just the long-term endgame. No matter how many times they fought or how hard they worked to keep the city from falling to ashes, they always ended up here, watching it just barely scrape through. Was that supposed be a sign of endurance? A reminder that, no matter what came, what enemy sprung up next, the city would hang on, an ever-struggling but always triumphant survivor. 

She supposed, given who had first begun their city-saving crusade, that did make sense. Oliver was a proverbial phoenix when it came to battle and survival. He dragged himself up from the ashes, skin mottled with burns, pushing himself up on unsteady legs, head held high even as his hard-earned wounds bled freely. The city modeled itself after him, wounded, bleeding all over, but alive. 

She stood tiredly in the foundry, staring at the destruction on her computer screens; a high definition view of what was lost and would be built again. ( _And again and again and again_.) She hugged her arms around herself, her mouth pursed in a frown. Felicity had always known what she was signing on for, and she wasn’t surprised, not really. The end of a war was never pretty. But maybe this wasn’t the end, not of the war at least. Just one battle among many more to come. It was an exhausting thought, made more so by the fact that this one was still so fresh. 

The door clanging above didn’t make her jump; she was used to it. Both John and Oliver had already checked in. John was headed home, to Lyla and Sara, and Oliver’s ETA was twenty minutes, which was eighteen minutes forty-two seconds ago. The one time he was on time… or early. He walked down the stairs slowly; leaning more to the right, his left knee swollen from an earlier fight. He wouldn’t say anything, he never did. But she would prod and push until he admitted something wasn’t right and maybe, just maybe, he needed help. 

He crossed the room slowly, taking off pieces of his suit as he went, discarding of armour and arm braces and placing his bow gently on a table top. Until, finally, he was behind her, steady and warm, the barrier of his undershirt rubbing against her blouse. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and said nothing. Like her, he watched. And waited. 

She stood, stiff and tired, until she saw movement. People. Coming out from the safety of their homes, peeking out from where they’d hidden from the chaos. It took a few minutes for them to get some kind of direction, but eventually they started working together. Gathering pails of water, using hoses when in reach. They doused the fire that threatened their city, their  _home_ , working arm in arm to keep it from eating away what was left. Like before, the city would rise again, hopefully better. 

Oliver squeezed his arms around her waist gently and pressed his cheek to her temple. Felicity sunk into his chest, tipping her head back to rest on his shoulder. 

They stayed there for a moment, relieved and content. They’d won, for now. Life would continue. 

Eventually, she untangled from him, turning in his arms to smile. “I think we have some leftover Chinese at home…” 

His mouth tipped up faintly on one side, and he nodded. 

She glanced down at his knee and then raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sharing the wine unless you let me help you with that knee though.” 

He let out a gruff laugh. “Tough bargain.”

She shrugged, tucking herself under his arm. “This is a team effort.  _Always_.”

Oliver’s expression softened, and as they shuffled their way to the back for him to change into something less green or recognizable, he dipped down, kissing the top of her head gently. 

It was moments like these –when he came back, maybe a little worse for wear, but alive all the same– that she knew it was worth it. The city might always be on the edge of burning. It might always need them to step in and keep it from finally crumbling completely. Some days, that burden would be a heavy one to carry, but they would.  _Together_. 


	52. “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "[I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/114793840553)."

Oliver startles awake, his eyes blinking wildly, the bite of cold nights spent on the island still eating at the edge of his mind. But he’s home now, he knows that. There’s a blanket pulled up to his waist, a soft pillow under his head, and a warm body– The space beside him is empty, and he frowns, his hand smoothing over the sheet to find it cold. With a yawn, he tosses the blanket aside and climbs out of bed, feet padding quietly on the hardwoods as he makes his way out of the bedroom and into the hall. 

There’s only two rooms he expects to find Felicity in at this time of night. The kitchen, raiding the fridge for a late-night snack, or her office. He finds her with her computers, wearing his t-shirt and nothing else. 

“Oh, you’re up!” she says, as she looks over at him. “Good!” Hopping out of her chair, she claps her hands together, shimmying a little with her enthusiasm. “Okay, so, I know I said we’d take the weekend off, no work, yadda yadda yadda, but there’s a thing happening. A serious thing. A serious Arrow-related  _thing_.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tells her, “It’s three in the morning…” 

“I know, but my phone dinged and then my tablet dinged. There was a lot of dinging. So I went to investigate and, well, one thing led to another…” She waves her hands around as if to hurry herself up. “ _Anyway_ , there’s a thing and we need to do something about it. Like,  _yesterday_.” 

He stares at her a long moment, watching her teeth scrape over her bottom lip. Her glasses are crooked and her hair is falling in loose waves around her shoulders. She looks sleep-mussed and pretty and very, very focused. All he wants to do is drag her back to bed, strip that t-shirt off her, and fall back to sleep with her comfortably tucked in his arms. But he knows her, he knows that face she’s making, that seriously focused  _work_ face. Which means… 

He sighs, somewhat resigned, mostly endeared. “All right,” he agrees, but then his eyes drop down to long, bare legs. “But I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else. And pants.” 

Felicity laughs, smiling widely, and then pauses. “ _Oh_. You’re serious.” 

He snorts under his breath. “If you want me to focus on work, yes.” 

Grinning then, she walks forward, rises up on her tip toes to pop a kiss on his lips, and then saunters away down the hall to their room. He watches the swish of her hips and licks his dry lips, suddenly very,  _very_  awake. 

Work can wait a little while, right? He walks after her, grinning, and she’s not even slightly surprised when he helps her take the shirt off and never reaches for pants. They’ll get to the dinging and the things and the work soon…  _ish_.


	53. “The skirt is short on purpose.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “[The skirt is short on purpose](http://leidoscope.tumblr.com/post/114793840553).”

Felicity isn’t stupid. She knows that a lot of people have a lot to say about her becoming the CEO of Palmer Technology. Just like they had a lot to say about her career change from tech worker to assistant to the CEO. People talk, and when it comes to women, that talk is often derogatory and sexist. But she’s an MIT graduate who balances being CEO and partner to the city’s own vigilante. She coordinates a team of superheroes in keeping their city safe while also managing a multi-billion dollar company. So yeah, stupid is not an adjective that should ever be applied to her. 

When she walks into the meeting, she’s confident. Her chin is high, her smile is bright, and she doesn’t let the critical eye of those around her sway her in the least. 

John is standing against the wall, arms crossed, one hand gripping the opposite wrist. He’s stoic, serious, intimidating. She winks at him, and his mouth ticks faintly. But he keeps his mask on, staring forward, eyes open for any sign of a problem. She’s pretty sure they’re not going to be infiltrated by some fringe radical group with machine guns (again), but who knows. Either way, she feels safer having her friend there, and he feels safer being there.

So, she moves to the head of the table, tablet in hand and assistant following at her heels. Marissa is smart; top of her class, qualified, informed about tech and happy to do whatever her job entails. Unlike Felicity, Marissa likes her position as assistant, she wears it as a point of pride. She’s also protective of her boss and, whether Marissa knows it or not, Felicity is aware of how she tries to subtly kick misogyny’s ass by standing up for her boss whenever anybody tries to criticize Felicity or how she got her job. 

It’s a well known fact that she is dating Oliver Queen, former CEO of Queen Consolidated, and that she briefly had  _something_ with the former CEO of Palmer Tech. That has no bearing on her position, not really. Maybe she didn’t climb the ladder the same way others have before her, but she still earned it, and not in the way far too many people think she did.

The meeting goes well. Marissa takes notes, but so does Felicity. She likes to keep track of things that jump out to her, that she wants to keep an eye on, that she knows will become important later, down the line. She listens to her employees concerns, adds her two cents, and feels good when everything is wrapped up without a problem. She plans to return to her office and do a little digging around for her after-hours job; it’s been gnawing at her since she woke up. But she’s going to save it for her lunch break instead. There are still some business related things she needs to deal with first.

She gathers her things up slowly, letting the room empty out before her, people chit-chatting about the meeting and lunch plans and not-so-subtly casting curious, critical eyes in her direction. 

Marissa is already on her way back to the office; she’s sent Felicity the notes she took on her tablet and she’ll spend some time going over the day’s itinerary and sit down with Felicity when she returns to her desk. Marissa is proactive; she knows her job and she rarely has to ask for tips on how to do it. Felicity reminds herself to have a thank you gift sent to her desk; maybe a fruit basket, or cheese. People like cheese, right? Or maybe she’s lactose intolerant… She can’t remember if Marissa takes cream in her coffee. 

John’s shadow falls across the table in front of her.

“What do you think about cheese baskets?” she blurts out.

John blinks at her. “I think that’s a lot of cheese for just one person…” 

“Hmm… That’s true. Maybe fruit then. Or,  _ooh_ , chocolate. Everybody loves chocolate.” She nods, and then picks up the last of things. “Well, I think that went well, what about you?”

He hums, but there’s a look on his face, pensive where it shouldn’t be. 

Felicity smiles knowingly. “Let me guess, the water cooler is rife with gossip…” 

“Can’t say I spend too much time around it, but I know the worker bees are talking…” A muscle ticks in his cheek.

Felicity shakes her head, her ponytail bouncing. “It’s fine.  _Really_ ,” she insists at his unconvinced frown. “They’ll talk. It’s what they do. They’ll come up with theories and reasons and whatever. All I can do is prove them wrong by doing my job.” She pushes her chair in against the table and starts toward the door. “I’m not going to change just because they can’t see that I’m fully capable of doing this job. Maybe I wasn’t sure before, but I am now. It’s hard, and it takes a lot of time and energy and a certain level of balance that I really wasn’t sure I could manage, but I was wrong. I can do this. And nothing they say or think will change my mind.” 

He nods, mouth turning up faintly then. 

“People are always going to talk, John. Let them.” 

“It’s not the talking that bothers me, it’s that they’re wrong.”

“I know what they’re saying. That I got this job on my my knees, or my back, or whatever.” She rolls her eyes and snorts.  _Typical_. “You see this?” She points down at her outfit. “This skirt is short on purpose.” 

He stares at her a moment, his brow furrowed, and then his expression clears, and for the first time that day she sees a real, broad,  _proud_  grin. Because maybe Felicity won’t say it out loud, maybe she won’t lash out at every person who snickers behind her back or insists that she isn’t cut out for the position she’s earned, but she’ll stay strong. 

Felicity Smoak is an intelligent, accomplished, incredibly busy person. She’s the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, the tech guru of a vigilante hero group, and she wears short skirts. Because the length of said skirt has no bearing on her capabilities. And because fuck you, that’s why. 


	54. things you said when you were drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when you were drunk - [ladymalfoi](http://www.ladymalfoi.tumblr.com) ( **[Tumblr](http://www.sarcasticfina.tumblr.com)** )

“S’not fair,” she mumbled, her head on his shoulder as she peered up at him through one half-open eye. Her glasses had been removed, after she’d drunkenly bemoaned ‘smudges’ for a good two minutes, and then she’d curled up next to him. 

She’d been drinking, in celebration of, well, he wasn’t sure. Something to do with her computer set-up in the ‘Arrow cave.’

Amused, Oliver smiled down at her as he asked, “What’s not fair?” 

“These.” She reached up and tapped her fingers against his mouth.

His brow furrowed. 

But then her fingers pried his lips apart and she tapped her nails against his teeth. “ _These_.”

He managed to draw her hand back from his mouth, but she only curled her fingers into her palm and press her knuckles against where his shoulder met his neck. 

“What’s wrong with my teeth?” 

“Nothing,” she huffed. “You n’ your stupid perfect teeth. I had to wear braces for _yeeears_ …” She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “All those dentist appointments. Couldn’t eat gum. S’not fair. Perfect teeth and face and abs and _stuff_.” 

“To be fair, I did spend five years on a hellish island.” He said it lightly, still amused more than anything. 

Felicity opened one eye, stared at him a minute, and then said, “Touche,” right before she rubbed her face against his shoulder and promptly passed out. 


	55. things you said at 1 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said at 1 am

“ _Hey._..” Her fingers trip along one scar and then walk their way to the next. “Are you awake?” 

Oliver hums, but doesn’t open his eyes.

Felicity smiles, biting down on her lip, and curls a little closer to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Guess what?”

 _Hum_.

“ _Technically_ , it’s the anniversary of the day we met… Six years since a certain red pen and a bullet-riddled laptop.” 

He opens his eyes then and looks up at her. She’s all soft, messy hair and squinting eyes from missing her glasses. She’s wearing one of his shirts, oversized on her. And his mouth turns up on one side, eyes soft and warm.

Felicity shifts forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and whispers, “Happy anniversary.”


	56. things you said after we kissed

Felicity could feel his warm breath stutter against her lips, the tip of his nose bumping her own. Her eyes were closed; she was afraid to open them and realize that this wasn’t happening. That all this time, all this build-up, had resulted in an over-grown imagination and little more. But, at the same time, she knew that they had come and gone from here, this place that always found them, too many times to count. And it never went where she wanted. Too many false starts, empty dreams, and unresolved hopes. 

Oliver’s thumb smooth up the arch of her cheek and tapped, lightly, next to her eye. “Felicity?” 

“Hm?” 

She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Are you going to look at me?” 

She scrunched up her nose. “No.” 

He hummed. “Can I ask why?” 

She raised a hand, patted it up his chest and along his shoulder, and then followed his arm up, until her fingers reached his wrist and coiled around it. “Maybe if I don’t open them, nothing changes.”

“I’m kind of hoping something _does_ change.” 

She shook her head, ever so slightly, not enough to dislodge his hand or draw herself too far from his mouth, but enough to get her meaning across. “If I open my eyes, and we do this, it stops. All of it. We’re good at this. At the beginning. It’s the other stuff, the middle and the end, that we trip over. So no, I just want to stay right _here_.” 

“I thought we were pretty good at the middle. Not perfect. A lot to improve on, definitely. But, we made it work... because we wanted it to work.” He sighed. “The end though, you’re right. We’re not good at endings.” His fingers stroked her hair back then, behind her ear, and then slid down her neck to rest on her shoulder. “So I propose, we don’t have one.” 

She lifted an eyebrow. “No ending?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Sounds optimistic.” 

He laughed then, quick and rough. “Can’t say I’m usually accused of that, but, some things deserve optimism... and _hope_.” 

She cracked one eye open then, and looked up at him. “Yeah?” 

He grinned at her. “Yeah.” 

She took a deep breath, and reached up with her other hand, sliding her palm over his heart. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” He stared at her a beat.

“Oh. Right.” She opened her other eye, and then blinked a few times. “There.” 

He smiled. “Much better.”

And then he kissed her again, and she jumped in, feet first, eyes wide open.


	57. “Don’t take your eyes off of me”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t take your eyes off of me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “Don’t take your eyes off of me” by [scu11y22](http://www.scu11y22.tumblr.com)

Felicity’s hands shook despite just how hard Oliver was gripping them. “I see clouds. Is it getting hard to breathe for you too? This is high. This is  _too_ high.” 

“ _Hey_.” Oliver stared at her steadily. “We can do this. Just a few more steps.” 

“Until what,  _doom?_  How are we this far off the ground? Why was this the plan? And why don’t we have parachutes?” 

“It was a last minute adjustment.” He half-grinned, his eyes twinkling in an unfairly attractive way. “I’ll make sure I keep a parachute on me in future.” 

“We’ll design something.” She nodded hurriedly, even as she took a step forward, her heart in her throat. She could feel her foot teetering over the edge of a wood-slat bridge with no sides. Why did anybody even make these? For  _goats?_  “I-In a watch or something. Compact! Easy to hide, easy to use. Barely even notice it. We’ll go full Bond on it.” 

His mouth twitched. “Full Bond?”

Felicity nodded tightly and took another step. She could see beyond his shoulder just how much space was left and it was, well,  _too much_. A strangled noise left her and she flinched. The whole bridge went left while her body rocked right. 

“Whoa, okay, hold on!” Oliver steadied her, but she could see the fracture of worry that had slashed across his face. “Listen, I know you’re scared. But, we can do this. It’s just a few more steps.” 

“It’s more than a few steps. It’s a  _lot_ of steps.” She nodded, her eyes wide. “I can’t do this. Leave me here. Come back for me later.” 

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you on this bridge.” 

“I’ll sit down and I won’t move. I  _promise_. Just go. Fight bad guys, save people. I’ll be right here, holding on for dear life.” 

“Felicity…” He stared at her searchingly. “Do you trust me?” 

She let out a whining noise. “Yes.  _Obviously_. I stepped on this bridge in the first place, didn’t I?” 

“Okay, then keep trusting me. Don’t take your eyes off of me, all right? Just look at me and keep walking.” He smiled reassuringly. “I won’t let you fall.” 

“You mean literally, right? Because metaphorically, there was a lot of falling. I don’t regret that. Not even now. While we’re crossing the smallest bridge known to man, over a very, very long drop. Why are we here again? Why is this happening?” 

“Bad people doing bad things.”

“Right.  _Duh_. Isn’t it always?” She let out an awkward, strained laugh, but her feet were moving. Bit by bit. And no matter how much she wanted to look past him, to see how much of the bridge was left to cross, she didn’t. She just kept talking. About nothing in particular, just anything to keep herself distracted. The date night they had planned for Thursday; tech she’d been working on; how much she regretted breaking in a new pair of hiking boots for this. Until, finally, she felt a tug. 

Felicity fell forward, her foot landing on solid ground and her body knocking straight into Oliver’s. Slumping with relief, she wrapped her shaking arms around his waist. “We made it.” 

He hugged her, his arms wound around her shoulders and his chin buried against the top of her head. “I said we would, didn’t I?” 

“Yes. And I trusted you. But things happen. Wind, bad guys, faulty ropes.” She shrugged and tilted her head back to see him. “I never doubted you, just everything else.” 

He half-grinned. “Good to know.” 

Felicity smiled. “Back to work?” 

“We’ve got a few seconds.” He tightened his grip and leaned down to kiss her. Just as their lips met, however, gun fire could be heard. 

With a harrumph, Felicity looked back over her shoulder. “I should be mad, but mostly I’m glad they’re late. At least we’re over the bridge.” 

“Small miracles.” Oliver took her hand and started for the trees. “Let’s celebrate later.” 

She winked up at him. “Deal.” 


End file.
